


keep your friends close (and your enemies...)

by caraminha



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gratuitous Overuse Of The Phrase Spidey Senses, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, Seizures, Spidey Senses, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caraminha/pseuds/caraminha
Summary: Apart from a malfunctioning Spidey Sense, Peter's doing good. He's great!Until he's not. Until he's REALLY not.Peter's in danger, and he knows before he even knows.(Or, Tony Stark somehow becomes Peter's overprotective dad, and SOMEHOW, he's FINE WITH IT)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: this is the second time im trying to upload this because i accidentally only uploaded half of it the first time, but thanks for the 2 kudos!! Youre tru bros x 
> 
> (if i manage to do it again, just lmk LOL and i'll give up on my aesthetic emojis in a re-upload)
> 
> UPDATE UPDATE: FUCKING HAD TO DELETE MY EMOJIS  
> extremely tired 2am update update update: omg. please tell me its okay
> 
> Anyways, i wrote this in one sitting, and my proofreading is shocking  
> Hope you enjoy and that it's not too awful  
> love u all x

  
"If you're going to emotionally blackmail me into getting full-fat ice cream, Peter Benjamin Parker, at least get a _good_ flavour! Strawberry! You know this, c'mon!"

  
"May… you're taste blind. It's mint choc chip or go home."

  
A snort and a wilting look are shot in his direction. "Just put it in the cart, Mr. Mint."

  
Peter grinned, dropping the carton in and pressing a chaste kiss to his Aunt's cheek. "Love you, May."

  
"You're going to be the death of me."

  
It was fall break of Peter's junior year. He was 16 now, and in all honesty, things were going great. School was good, Spider-Man was good, Mr Stark was good. His friendships with Ned, and, more recently, MJ were great. 

  
Liz was gone and that had sucked. But if that meant she had the chance at a fresh start, then that was what Peter wanted most.

  
He did miss her at Decathlon, seeing her warm smile and smelling her light perfume in the halls, but he was okay, really. Even the nightmares about fighting Toomes had almost completely gone. 

  
Best of all, Aunt May had _finally_ gotten the promotion she deserved at work, which meant that making ends meet had been just that little bit easier since July. 

  
And so, they were grocery shopping at the nicer place. The one with _bag packers_! Fall break meant that Peter'd mostly be alone in the apartment in the daytime and May wanted him to have food that boasted the least chance of burning the entire block down when he attempted to make lunch.

  
"Let's check out the microwave meals. They're easy, right? They're full of salt, though, so only one bag of chips a day. Hear me? I read this article that said that teenagers should only have 3.8 grams of sodium a day, and you _definitely_ get more than that with all the junk you eat." May stopped to peruse the ready-meal section, scouring the ingredients of any that had a vegetable in.

  
Peter leaned in beside her and chuckled. "You know, I can bench press way more than double my weight and I fight criminals every day. I think I'm capable of making some eggs or something." He laughed when May gave him an annoyed look and raised his hands in mock-surrender, "Or not! Beef stew's fine."

  
May swatted his shoulder with her grocery list. "Said with such conviction for someone who brained himself on a building, huh?" 

  
She smirked pointedly at his right eye, which had a nice shade of yellowing purple swallowing it. 

  
He grimaced minutely before regaining his composure, shrugging goofily. He'd told May that he'd swung too fast round the corner of an apartment complex and gone face-first into a balcony that he didn't expect to be there. 

  
That… wasn't _necessarily_ the truth.

  
In reality, it was a miracle that he and May could joke about the subject of Spider-Man _at all_. It'd taken a long while and many long explanations and conversations with him and Mr Stark for her to come round to the idea. 

  
At first to Mr Stark it had looked as though she was just inconsolably angry - _murderous, ready to castrate_ , he'd described her as - but Peter knew it was more than that. 

  
She was frightened. She'd been completely in the dark for a long time, and it made her feel foolish and like a bad parent. Mr Stark, someone she wasn't the biggest fan of anyway, knew, and had _allowed it_ , not her. Peter was her everything and the thought of ever losing him was too much for her to ever think about. And this was all best expressed as anger. 

  
It was understandable, especially after Peter's parents, and Uncle Ben. Mr Stark had reassured Peter that he got it, that May was worried and protective for good reason, and that as his parent it was her word that was final. 

  
So they'd spent a few weeks with no patrolling and no contact. It'd been miserable and isolating and lonely and guilt-inducing, seeing the news of crime that he could've stopped. 

  
Peter missed Mr Stark, and Happy, and Rhodey, and Pepper. He missed the suit the most.

  
After 43 days of seeing her nephew slope about with a raincloud over his head, Aunt May had begrudgingly come round and an arrangement was made.

  
May was to call Tony whenever she wanted, and Tony was to pick up without fail. If he couldn't, Happy would call her back within 10 minutes. He was never to keep anything important from her, and she'd get reports of Peter's weekly suit activity sent to her email address. Peter had a curfew and a list of crimes he wasn't to stop.

  
After that, it got easier. Above all May wanted Peter to be happy and she wanted him to help people. She was proud of him. Slowly but surely, she began to talk about Spider-Man with more respect than disdain. She started asking about patrol, asking about how the suit worked, how it felt to be enhanced, how she could help. How Tony was doing (honestly!).

  
But that didn't mean he told her _everything_. The black eye was one of those things. 

  
Frankie Masterson, a sophomore that Peter had known from band before he'd quit for patrolling, was small. He was around 5'2 and had no muscle about him whatsoever.

  
In essence, Peter wouldn't put his money on Frankie for any later than the first 5 seconds of a boxing match.

  
Yesterday was the Friday before break began and Peter had had final Decathlon practice before their meet next week. The halls were pretty much empty and it was actually starting to get dark, which Peter liked. It gave the school a tranquil feeling that contrasted from the hustle and bustle of the day. But more importantly, it meant he could sneak out the school, as Spider-Man, unseen.

  
He and Ned were grabbing stuff from their lockers when they heard Frankie's pleading. 

  
Peter's instinct to help kicked in and he jogged round the corner to see a beefy senior holding Frankie by the neck of his shirt over a trash can in the corner, Frankie's hand reaching out to the wall in a desperate attempt to push himself upright. 

  
His nose was bleeding and his phone lay smashed on the ground nearby. He was crying. 

  
"Shut up and listen! You put your disgusting faggot hands on my brother one more time and I'll break them both, y'hear me? He's not gay. You thought you were texting him sweet nothings? That was me. Surprise, faggot!"

  
Peter saw red. So did Ned, who stepped forward. Peter pushed a halting hand to his chest before striding forward.

  
It took the blink of an eye for Frankie to be free of the senior's grasp, cowering by Ned, Peter in his place under the senior's fist.

  
"I said pick on someone your own size, jackass." Peter grumbled. He was still seriously smaller than the older boy. He only got one punch in before allowing himself to be 'overpowered' and forced backwards into the corner. His eye stung, but his enhanced strength meant it wasn't too bad.

  
"I can't believe someone actually came to save you, faggot!" The senior shouted at Frankie, who Ned ushered round the corner, nodding at Peter. Peter felt his stomach twist with disgust.

  
"Don't call him that." He glared at the bully, who spat a laugh.

  
"That's his name. Would you prefer fag for short? Why the fuck have you interrupted me? Camp little shit. You a fag too?" The grip on Peter's button-down collar tightened. 

  
Peter's toes curled in his shoes and he took in a deep breath to stop himself from lashing out. It took a lot to make Peter angry enough to want to hurt someone. He mentally added comic-book-cliché bullies who hadn't entered the 21st Century to the list.

  
Mr Stark had once warned him to keep his fists by his sides at school. If he really wanted to, Peter could kill a schoolkid. Peter had never thought about that before. It was true.

  
Thinking of what Mr Stark would want him to do, he released the breath.

  
"What if I am?" He settled into his most smug, Tony Stark-esque expression. "Oh no! Careful, your bad breath right in my face and your body odour are making me hard."

  
That's what earned him the punch. Holding his strength back, Peter stamped on the guy's foot, waited for him to double over, then slipped out of his hold. 

  
He quickly twisted the senior's left arm uncomfortably around his back and held him over the trash can, "Leave him alone." he muttered before shoving him right into it.

  
"See you later, stud." He threw over his shoulder.

  
The senior would be too embarrassed at what'd happened to tell anyone, so Peter wasn't too worried at having demonstrated some of his strength.

  
"Peter! You alright? Ouch man, your eye!" 

  
"I'm good. Where's Frankie?" Ned had rushed over to him the second Peter had rounded the corner but he was alone.

  
Ned frowned. "He… he was embarrassed. He said to thank you." Peter nodded, smiling sadly. He'd scooped up Frankie's phone before leaving. It looked fixable - Mr Stark had stuff in his lab he could use to try and mend it.

  
It wasn't that Peter thought his Aunt wouldn't be proud of him for standing up for Frankie, it was just the principle. She'd hate to know that Peter shouldn't, couldn't and wouldn't fight back. It'd scare her to know how far he'd go to avoid outing Spider-Man.

  
As they left the store, May threw an arm round his shoulders. Peter hooked his arm round her waist and squeezed. "You still going to Ned's tonight?"

  
"Yeah. His brother's just bought an original Nintendo 64 off eBay!" 

  
"Cool! I'll drop you off after we've unpacked all this."

  
"Thanks May." Peter smiled gratefully. As they got into the car, he glanced over his shoulder.

  
His Spidey sense of weird… uneasiness… had appeared again, as it had been doing for a few days, but only for a second. He'd put it down to before-fall break tiredness, and he couldn't see anything, so he slammed the door shut and popped the lock.

* * *

  
The one thing about having more money for food meant there was a lot more to carry up the stairs of their apartment block - and even then, that'd be fine because of Peter's super-strength and all, but they decided that neighbours would be suspicious if they saw Peter sprinting up the 7 flights with 8 bags in each hand like they were full of feathers and not instead the surprisingly numerous ingredients for May's specialty celery soup.

  
Mr Stark wasn't rude enough to comment on their high up and cosy (May's word for small) apartment, though Peter could tell he found it difficult to imagine living there. 

  
He wanted to help them out, that much was obvious - Mr Stark had grown really fond of Peter, and the best way he knew to show his love was through cash. He'd had to get smarter about just pulling out his chequebook and expecting May to accept it without argument. She was a proud woman and never would. 

  
So he'd wandered around, sunglasses off, eyeing the house plants, the knick-knacks and the bright, clashing colours of the comforters and curtains. 

  
He raised his eyebrows, impressed, at the hundreds of nerdy DVDs in the collection and snorted at the embarrassing pictures of Peter as a snotty 5 year old. 

  
That was when he'd realised that he could be more subtle: Peter and May were happy in their apartment. It wasn't the crisp-cut, minimalist décor of the Tower - it was homely and warm, and it was theirs. Peter had really begun to read Mr Stark like a book and he could see it all dawn on him. 

  
After that, Mr Stark started to give Peter things he needed. Nothing huge, just little things. And on his birthday, he'd _insisted_ on taking Peter clothes shopping. On top of more graphic tees and Converse, he'd got Peter fitted with a proper suit. You know, for special occasions. _You're part of the Stark family now, kid._

  
That'd been a really good day, even if he hadn't had a chance to wear it yet.

* * *

  
Ned's parents were away for the week visiting his sister in Hawai'i and his older brother was working the night shift, which meant they had the entire place to themselves. They ordered pizza with weird toppings and stayed up till stupid o'clock playing video games and chatting. 

  
Peter had text Mr Stark to let him know he wasn't patrolling tonight just in case he got worried, who replied a few minutes later telling him to _have fun kiddo. I hope you and Ted think of me in this boring meeting whilst you do so!!_

  
"Hey, d'you think Frankie's okay?" Ned said around a piece of pineapple and red pepper. He was lying on the floor with his legs up on the couch - the Spider-Man mask was just around his eyes.

  
Peter put his phone down and began repeatedly brushing up then re-smoothing a mohawk on the cat curled up in his lap. His Spidey sense that'd been mildly buzzing for the last few days prickled a little before settling down, leaving him feeling a little anxious, but not overwhelmingly so. 

  
"I dunno. I guess we should message him on Facebook? I've been thinking about him all day."

  
"We should. But it's 3am and he might think it's a bit weird if we do it right now, right?" Ned laughed, "Tomorrow, let's do it. Does your eye hurt?" 

  
"Not really. I'm strong!" Peter squeezed Ned's ankle and Ned squirmed, letting out a half-laugh, half "Ouch, dude!"

  
Peter's phone buzzed again, a notification from Karen that the suit needed to be charged. Ned pulled the mask off. "Is Mr Stark back from Paris?"

  
"Yeah! He got back today, two weeks feels like a lifetime 'cause I have all these ideas for the suit and Karen that I really wanna get down to the lab and working on, and Mr Stark said I can have free reign on the Mark V repulsor nervous system - dude, the _Mark V_! Mr Stark says I'm smart enough to be engineering for a living and that once I've dissected a couple suits I can start helping even more, and Mr Stark-"

  
Ned was grinning in admiration before he giggled, "I can't believe you still call him Mr Stark, man. How many times is it he's told you to call him Tony? I swear at this point he's like your second parent and you still call him that."

  
Peter blushed. He couldn't help but call Mr Stark that, it was just a habit that he didn't even notice. And… second parent? Did Ned really think that? He guessed he did talk about him a lot. But that was just because Ned was the only one who knew! "You call him Mr Stark!" 

  
"Yeah, because I don't personally know him and he thinks my name is Ted!"

  
"He knows your name's Ned! He's just kidding about. He always does that, he even calls his helper robots Peter 'by accident' to tease me."

  
"Wow. That is such a Dad thing to do. Ouch! If Keiki wasn't so adorably asleep on you right now, I'd pound you back with this cushion so hard I'd be sending you back to May flat in an envelope."

  
Peter fell asleep feeling safer than he had for a while, on Ned's sofa watching the _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_ cast commentary and thinking about hitting the lab with Mr Stark again.

* * *

  
A sudden crash from the garbage truck outside jolted Peter awake with a fright. He tried to calm his harsh breathing before he woke Ned. Turning his face to the pillow with eyes scrunched shut, he reached an arm down into his backpack and pulled out his special noise-cancelling earphones. 

  
... like he said, his dreams of fighting the Vulture and being trapped under the collapsed building were _almost_ gone, but not quite. 

  
His senses were definitely always higher when he'd woken up, but right now, they were in hyperdrive. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, and he hugged his arms to himself to try and quell the vibrations going through his body. 

  
It just proved to him that they weren't accurate. There was no danger right now, and he definitely couldn't rely on them during patrol, as sometimes recently something really bad would be happening right below him and nothing would happen. 

  
Once a little old lady had to beat off a mugger with her handbag because Peter didn't sense anything. To be fair to her, she was completely capable and Peter had a good laugh at the sorry looking guy whilst webbing him up.

  
The earphones really helped after a minute or two, and 20 minutes later he was back to the dull nervous buzz. He had Mr Stark to thank for those ear buds.

  
Sensory overload _and_ nightmare-induced Spidey sense warnings? No fair. 

  
His senses had been playing up a little since the Vulture, especially recently. He'd told Mr Stark about it a few months ago and he'd taught him some good relaxation techniques, coupled with an apology that he didn't know much about enhanced beings. 

  
He'd offered to find Peter people to talk to about it, but Peter had declined. 

  
He just needed some time to figure this new development out - things did change sometimes, evolved.

  
He'd vaguely wished Mr Stark had been around these past couple of weeks. When he actually thought about it, his enhanced senses had been off the charts. Maybe I'm upgrading, he mused.

  
He and Ned had a breakfast of leftover pizza and flat Pepsi before Peter set off back home. The fresh air made him feel much better, and he practically forgot the morning's episode, stopping off to grab some candy, making kind-natured plans to deep-clean the kitchen for Aunt May.

  
Starting with the fridge. Gross.

  
His phone buzzed as he reached his street. 

  
_**10:27am** Mr Stark: You're not too hungover to come over today, I hope?_  
_**10:27am** Me: nope! Got no plans (:_  
_**10:27am** Mr Stark: Great, Happy will pick you up at 12? I'll put a lunch on_  
_**10:28am** Me: tysm mr stark_  
  
Another text buzzed through whilst he turned the key to the apartment.

  
_**10:32am** Mr Stark: We can talk about the kid that gave you that shiner over soup and salmon._

  
May.

  
He was so not cleaning the kitchen now. She could forget the fridge!

  
Oh, who was he kidding. He opened the fridge and began emptying it, phone in one hand.

  
_**10:33am** Me: How did you know?_  
_**10:33am** Mr Stark: Spider-Man happens to be a close friend who doesn't faceplant balconies_  
_**10:34am** Me: :/_  
_**10:34am** Mr Stark: ;)  
_ _**10:39am** Mr Stark: But seriously, we will have words_

* * *

  
Peter mostly meets Tony at the Tower, just because it's easier, and he could get there after school much quicker than he could the Compound. He could tell that Peter knew he wasn't much of a fan of the Compound anyway. The kid never mentioned it.

  
In the end, Tony couldn't find a buyer he liked - Typical Tony lie - and had held off from selling all of the Tower. Pepper was always in the city anyway, and it was good to have a base for emergencies. And, of course, to see Peter. 

  
He'd had sold the middle part, but kept the penthouse, where he'd upgraded the lab to be a bit bigger. 

  
At first, when Peter had started visiting to help out in the lab and to convene over the Spidey suit, it'd been a bit awkward and stilted, with Peter unsure whether he could say things or not.

  
Nowadays, he really looked forward to their afternoons together. An easy, calm relationship had formed between them, and it was great to have each other to bounce ideas off of - not just for the Spider-Man suit anymore, but for anything Tony happened to be working on - the Iron Man suits too.

  
The summer vacation had brought up a quiet suggestion from Peter that had made Mr Stark without a doubt completely fall for the kid. 

  
Spider-Man encountered many homeless people in Queens and the kid found himself constantly worrying about how many homeless people there must be in New York alone. He couldn't help them as Spider-Man, let alone Peter. 

  
_"Maybe the ground floors could be a homeless shelter, or... or something?"_

  
And so it was spoken into existence: the homeless centre became Pepper's newest project over the summer, with Peter getting constant updates on how it was going. Whenever it was mentioned, his sunny grin was infectious.

  
Tony had always known that if you were filthy rich, you couldn't be a good person - you have too much money whilst other people have too little. Simple as.

  
And he'd always just accepted that he was a bad person. He'd _known_ he was. 

  
He donated to charities, obviously, and was Iron Man, but that hardly made a dent in his bank balance.

  
If Tony Stark tried to build a homeless shelter, the people would probably burn it to the ground. 

  
A publicity stunt, an empty gesture.

  
And yet here they were: the public had embraced the idea and the community was so ready for the reveal. Pepper had set up an appeal for more shelters to be built like it across the country. Peter had abashedly told him that MJ had kissed him on the cheek when she'd found out.

  
It was all ready, and Tony was going to ask the kid to cut the tape.

  
When Peter arrived at the penthouse, he beamed at Tony. "Hey, kiddo." He tilted Peter's chin to the light, hissing and impressed whistle. "Nice eye. Fresh."

  
"What's up, Mr Stark? How was Paris?"

  
Tony rolled his eyes. "French. Clean. Boring. Meetings. Blech. Did I say boring?" Peter smiled and dropped onto one of the plush sofas in the living area as Tony checked on the food across the room. He tested the gravy on the spoon. "School okay?"

  
It was barely a second's pause, but still, Peter hesitated. Then his face levelled out. "Good, yeah. Still at a 98 in math." 

  
"Right. That's great. And the, uh?" Tony gestured to his right eye with the spoon quizzically. "Panda impression?"

  
Peter eyes dropped to the sofa. "Can't punch back, can I?"

  
Tony nodded approvingly. "Nope. But, Pete, I thought you promised me no fights at all?"

  
That got Peter's attention. "I didn't start it, Mr Stark, I swear. This was necessary." 

  
Tony already knew that: Peter picked his fights carefully. "So, what is this? You being bullied?"

  
The second he said that, the kid shook his head so much Tony thought it'd come loose. "No! I mean… only teasing, but that's-"

  
"Who's teasing you? Are you making this seem like no big deal when it's actually _yes_ big deal, Peter?"

  
Peter sighed in sad agitation and stood. He paced to the kitchen island. "No, of course not. I was helping this sophomore. He was getting beat up pretty bad."

  
Tony exhaled through his nose and dumped the spoon back in the pot, turning and leaning against the counter. He knew that Peter knew what he was going to say, that some fights weren't his fights, especially with his super strength, and that it's just the circle of life in a school. 

  
But there was no point in trying to convince Peter Parker not to protect other people. It was like trying to tell a fish to breathe out of water.

  
"This guy, he was a senior, and he'd broken his nose, I think. He'd been baiting Frankie, making him think he was texting another gay sophomore, just to give him an excuse to beat him up. He was… he was calling him a fag, Tony. I can't just let that happen." 

  
Tony deflated. 

  
"I didn't punch him or anything. _Please_ don't tell Aunt May, she'll get upset. Promise me."

  
Peter looked really uneasy. Skittish. Tony half-jokingly told him to _sit down before you fall down, Bambi on Ice,_ promising he wouldn't tell his Aunt. 

  
They took their food into the lab, and once they were eating, Tony carefully scrutinised Peter. 

  
"You alright?"

  
"Yeah. Think so. Senses a bit messed up right now."

  
Tony frowned. "How so?"

  
"I dunno. Just, like, it's on all the time, even when nothing's happening. Think I'm just a bit strung out from school. I don't know. It's okay."

  
"You'll let me know if it's not."

  
"Sure, Mr Stark."

  
Tony didn't believe him.

* * *

  
Mr Stark asked him to come to the opening event of the homeless shelter right before he left. He guessed he did it then because he wouldn't have time to argue.

  
So Peter kind of surprised himself as well as Mr Stark by saying yes, of course, yes! 

  
Tony invited May, but Peter knew she was working. That was sad, because her and Pepper got on so well, and he knew both of them would be disappointed. 

  
"Oh well. Be sure to let her know that if she wants to play hooky, she's welcome to come. Hey - you can wear your new suit!"

  
Peter was about to laugh out loud at the thought of turning up to a high-end party wearing Spider-Man Mark II when he realised Mr Stark meant his new _dress_ suit and he couldn't help a huge grin spread across his face. "Oh shit, yeah!"

  
"Jeez, language, sailor! You'll be all healed up by then, right? Can't have you strutting about in your Armani threads when your eye's doing its ripe plum impression."

  
Peter laughed. "Yeah, it'll be healed by tomorrow, don't worry. You'll give yourself a matching one if it hasn't, right? Make it look like fashion?"

  
"Of course." Mr Stark pressed the button for the elevator. "I'm proud of you, kiddo. I want the media to know this is all you and Pepper. I don't want to take the credit for your good heart." 

  
"Thank you, Mr Stark. That… that means a lot. Thanks." 

  
"Go on, get out of here before we all start crying and I dry heave. I'm allergic to emotion. See you Wednesday."

  
Peter hopped into the elevator, bouncing on his heels still. "See ya Mr Stark! And sorry for the swearing!" He heard Mr Stark laughing as the door closed. "Garage please, FRIDAY."

  
As the elevator shot downwards, Peter felt the smile leave his face. He already felt edgy again. Maybe if… this… wasn't feeling better by next weekend, he'd tell Mr Stark at their next lab session.

* * *

  
Wednesday could _not_ come quick enough.

  
The countdown to the launch event was filled with homework and studying, not burning the apartment down, trying on his suit a few times, hanging out and working on his history group project with Ned and MJ, 

  
and trying to ignore his heightened anxiety. 

  
In all honesty, he'd put it down to the event: the more he thought about it, and the more he put on the suit and tried to make his hair look good, and the more he realised his voice squeaked and he realised he was just an immature kid, the more he began to believe that that's all it was. 

  
There were gonna be tons of cameras there and even though this would prove every single person at school who didn't believe in the internship wrong, he could feel the excitement being balanced out by fear.

  
There wasn't any point telling Mr Stark. It'd just make him feel bad for asking him to come, and he'd think Peter wasn't ready, when he _was_! He was still excited for the event. It was just a bit soon. 

  
And so in that way, Wednesday couldn't come fast nor slow enough. 

  
The only way that it'd become reassuring was that it gave him a placebo explanation for the Spidey sense malfunctioning.

  
It had gotten to the point where every time he left home, he felt cold, because the hairs all over his body were stood on end. To stop MJ from noticing, he ended up wearing long sleeves at all times, even inside. 

  
He'd even pretended he needed the bathroom whilst they were walking down the street just so he could get off the sidewalk and inside a coffee shop.

  
He thought he'd been sly about it; till he gotten back from patrol and looked at his phone.

  
_**10:42pm** Her MJesty: what is going on with you peter_  
_**10:42pm** Her MJesty:  & i want a straight answer please bc me and ned are worried_  
_**11:09pm** Stupid Flanders: did MJ text you?? You okay dude? X_  
_**11:12pm** Her MJesty: if it's the launch party pls don't worry about it  
_ _**11:14pm** Her MJesty: you've done an amazing thing and Stark trusts you_

  
He smiled softly. Ned and MJ really were the best friends.

  
**Michelle's Bois**  
_**11:22pm** Me: hey guys, don't worry about me!! I'm just getting het up about the shelter launch, you know me_  
_**11:23pm** Me: thank u for caring tho, love u guys x_  
_**11:23pm** Her MJesty: love you too nerd x  
_ _**11:26pm** Stupid Flanders: we're always here for you_

* * *

  
May wolf-whistled at him from the sofa as he tried to straighten his bow tie in the mirror. She was in her uniform, about to leave for her night shift. The tub of mint ice cream sat in her lap.

  
Peter huffed out a frustrated breath in reply. His bow tie just _wouldn't_ go on right! And his hair looked ridiculous, gelled all wrong, and his had a huge pimple on his cheek that was _so incredibly juvenile and obvious_ that it all just made him want to throw up. 

  
His phone buzzed on the TV cabinet, lighting up with a message from Happy saying he'd be there in 5.

  
He made a low keening sound and began fussing with his hair again. Tonight was already a disaster! 

  
Gentle arms wrapped around his neck from behind and he let the soft soap, perfume and detergent scent of Aunt May be the sense he focused on. "C'mere." 

  
She undid the bow tie then expertly adjusted it, tying it with ease. "Now turn around. Pass me the comb, sweetie." 

  
His eyes stayed shut as she sorted his hair, popped his pimple and covered it with concealer and setting powder. "Stay there just one sec!" She called as she left the room. Her light footsteps came back towards him as he felt himself spritzed with some of his Uncle's cologne. His heart twisted.

  
"There. My beautiful baby. This okay?" She turned him back to the mirror, "Handsome as ever." 

  
Peter felt his eyes misting up a little at the woman stood beside him. He wished, wished, wished she was coming with him tonight. His anxiety was always at its dullest when she was around, and tonight it was through the damn roof. "Perfect. Thanks, May."

  
"Remember the last time I did this, for Homecoming?" Peter tried to stop his heart from hammering at the offhand comment, only humming a response. Toomes was not crossing his mind tonight. Tonight was _his_ night.

  
Another text pinged through letting him know Happy was waiting outside. Peter pulled it from the charger and slipped it into his coat pocket. 

  
May walked down with him, and kissed him goodnight. "I'm so proud of you, baby. Have fun. Don't get too drunk!" 

  
"Love you, May." 

  
He felt like a little kid on his first day of school watching her walk away.

  
He and Happy didn't talk much in the car, Peter buzzing with what he hoped came across as too much excitable energy to entertain much conversation. Happy got out of the car to open the door for him, which was a first.

  
From the second they arrived, the whole thing was honestly the biggest blur.

  
He was almost immediately whisked off to the back of a makeshift stage where he finally saw Mr Stark, looking impossibly suave in his pinstripe ensemble and sunglasses. He gave Peter a reassuring pep talk that he was sure he'd appreciate if he could channel his racing mind towards _listening_. 

  
Mr Stark gave him some tiny noise-diminishing ear buds and he clocked being told that the reporters had been strictly told _no flash photography._

  
And then they're onstage, looking out at hundreds of people. It was as exhilarating as it was dizzying, so Peter squinted out till he found Rhodey on the second row. Rhodey winked at him and Peter gave him a small smile back. 

  
He could tell he was being spoken about, because everyone seemed to be smiling at him. It was the weirdest thing he'd ever seen. 

  
Then Mr Stark was done delivering his speech, and Peter cut the tape to uproarious cheers: the earbuds really did the trick. Pepper kissed both his cheeks, Mr Stark squeezed his shoulder and muttered a, "Well done, buddy, let's get you out of here." and he was pushed down the steps and straight into an elevator. 

  
There were about 100 people at the after party, and after discovering he had his own waitress personally delivering him virgin drinks and mocktails all night, he finally felt able to let his guard down a bit. His thoughts began to still, his breaths calmed and the bubbling permanent anxiety attack almost disappeared. He'd done it!

  
Mr Stark had disappeared to welcome some mayor or another, so Peter settled back on the sofa with Rhodey and Happy.

  
He felt amazing! He felt so chilled, like his heart rate had never been so good. He could practically sleep right now, if it weren't for the star-struck excitement of the room.

  
It wasn't long before Tony brought an old friend from MIT, Angus, over to meet Peter. Peter stood and shook his hand, grinning. He could tell Mr Stark wasn't as interested in talking to Angus as Angus was in talking to Mr Stark, but Peter was politely entertaining conversation as much as he could, being asked about his interests, what it was like to be Tony Stark's first ever intern ("Tony _doesn't have_ interns!"), when his stomach began flip-flopping with nausea and his Spidey sense suddenly ratcheted again. 

  
He felt detached, dizzy. Angus drifted away, clearly unimpressed at how the conversation had become almost completely one sided. How had this all gone downhill so quickly? He was safe here, wasn't he?

  
He knocked back his Shirley Temple to try and cool himself a bit, and bent to put the glass down on the coffee table. He swayed a little on his way back up, seeing black spots, and Mr Stark grabbed his elbow, loudly joking, asking who'd spiked the kids' drink. 

  
When Peter looked up, he could see the truth in his question. Mr Stark was staring at him worriedly.

  
"Mr Stark, I don't feel so good." He blurted croakily, unable to stop himself.

  
"Yeah?" Mr Stark said softly. "You wanna split?"

  
Only two or three others had noticed Peter's pale face and him being what must've seemed as being completely held up by Tony Stark, but it was enough for Peter to straighten up and apologise. 

  
"Totally fine, Pete. C'mon, let's get outta here."

  
Peter pulled his arm out of Mr Stark's grasp, smiling encouragingly. "I'm okay. Just kinda hot. Got dizzy for a sec. I'm gonna get some air for five minutes. I think those people wanna talk to you."

  
Tony looked unsure. "Peter…"

  
" _Honestly_ , Mr Stark. Just nerves. Don't worry."

  
Before he could get a reply, he headed for the elevator. "Roof, please, FRI." He mumbled, sliding to the floor the second the doors shut.

  
"Sure thing, Peter. Are you alright? I can let Boss know that you need assistance."

  
"No!" Peter pushed himself up and out into the fresh air. That was better. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm fine, FRIDAY, thanks."

  
His vision was clearing up when he finally found his regular perch. What was _wrong_ with him? There wasn't any danger here, Stark Tower was so well guarded!

  
That was when he felt the dart go into his neck. 

  
His Spidey senses kicked in before his reaction did, kicking up from his spot and sprinting as fast as he could in the direction of the elevator. His vision cleared out of adrenaline spiked necessity, and the fear pushed him onward. 

  
It wasn't enough. Whatever was in the dart, wasn't enough. He had an enhanced metabolism so it took more than whatever dosage he had coursing through him right now, searing and hot, to knock him out.

  
He collapsed into the elevator, pressing his cheek against the cool floor. 

  
Tony.

  
He needed Tony.

  
He was so scared. God, he was so scared.

  
Everything was going black, everything hurt. His eyes felt heavy and he could feel himself start to twitch and his teeth chatter loudly.

  
"F-FRI. G-ge-…Tony. Tony." 

  
It hurt. Oh God, _shit_ , it _hurt_. He was definitely sobbing.

  
The last thing he feels is frantic relief, because the last thing he sees before the pain pulls him under and the darkness takes him is Tony Stark dropped to his knees in front of him, one hand in his hair, one hand on his face, desperately begging him to stay with him. Yelling for help.

  
That was when he passed out and started convulsing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not gonna lie, i dont know if this is any good because I've read it so many times (but not really proofread it, oops), but your guys' SUPER NICE comments on the last chapter literally made my day and i once again wrote this in one sitting. 
> 
> its not like i have an assignment due Friday or anything...................ha. ha
> 
> Hope u enjoy! LOve u guys

  
Tony was panicked, to say the least.

  
Strangled groans of pain were coming from Peter's throat as he fitted, spatters of blood coming from the corner of his mouth as he bit his tongue. The way he was jerking about was traumatising, especially for his stricken-looking mentor kneeling beside him.

  
"We can't move him yet - it's too dangerous." Rhodey called, rushing to pull his gun out and check all the connecting rooms for any danger. "We're clear here."

  
If it was even remotely possible that Peter could hear anything, Tony wasn't wasting an opportunity to reassure him.

  
"Easy, buddy, it's okay. You're alright. You're gonna be okay. I'm here. Easy."

  
His voice was soft, but it was wavering like someone who was trying not to break down in tears. 

  
He'd rolled Peter onto his back and as he combed his fingers through his hair, his eyes trailed down to the dart. He yanked it out, and without looking up, threw it to Rhodey who caught and inspected it.

  
Peter's fists were clenched and his eyes rolled back, eyelids flickering. Tony's eyes were misted up.

  
"Lock this place down, FRIDAY. Freeze the elevators. Code Red - alert Vision. What the _hell_ is happening?" Happy's voice trailed out of the room, raised slightly so that Tony could hear him.

  
"Code Red enacted."

  
Happy had sprung into action the second he saw the dart in Peter's neck, he and Pepper gathering the shocked partygoers and staff and filing them into the penthouse foyer for security checks and to give Peter some privacy. Everyone went without argument, though some seemed almost unable to move due to frightened, morbid curiosity. 

  
He gave a concerned jerk of his head to Rhodey as they left, and he knelt beside Tony to place two fingers on Peter's wrist. 

  
His pulse was erratic - but then again, he had no frame of reference for a radioactive kid with goddamn spider enhancements. 

  
Then he took off his jacket, folded it, and slipped it under the kid's head. Even unconscious, Peter looked scared. Small. His heart clenched, hard, at the sight and he tried to ignore how it must feel for Tony right now. Peter was _his_ kid. 

  
Peter was just a kid.

  
He was too young to be a target.

  
"FRIDAY, time the seizure. Send anything you can get on his vitals ahead to the hospital. That's good, Tones, keep him like that. I think it's slowing down now, so suit up as soon as it stops and I'll be behind you, okay? Don't move him before then." Tony nodded in swift agreement, swallowing audibly before continuing his gentle mumbling in Peter's ear.

  
"Tones, I'm going to the roof." Tony jumped a little at the sound of Rhodey's bionic legs hissing into standing position. He nodded again. "See what I can see." 

  
He doubted much - the dart seemed to have been shot from some distance, and the culprit was probably long gone by now - but it was worth checking. 

  
Tony didn't seem to have clocked the immediate danger they were in and it was kind of worrying. He'd never seen Tony like this; even Tony mid-anxiety attack had more of a hold on himself than right now.

  
"Be one minute." He squeezed his friend's shoulder before jogging to the stairs. 

  
He headed for the stairwell since Peter and Tony were still in the elevator, mentally threatening his son-of-a-bitch new legs to be up for the 3-storey climb, or else.

  
Rhodey was right: the seizure was beginning to slow down. The only sound in the empty room was Peter's laboured breathing and the random choked sounds coming from the back of his throat. 

  
It was accompanied by Tony's incessant chatter.

  
"That's it Peter. You're alright, it's stopping now, it's stopping. I'm gonna get you to the hospital, okay? Suit's faster than an ambulance. You'd love this if you were awake, huh? Flying about town. Some kinda Peter Pan. So you'd better wake up for me. 'kay? Do as you're told for once."

  
The clicking of Pepper's heels hurriedly coming towards him calmed him somewhat, and he outstretched his free hand behind him. "Pep's here now, kiddo."

  
Pepper grabbed his hand and allowed it to be guided to Peter's cheek, replacing Tony's. Tony jumped up and away.

  
"Oh, Peter…" she murmured. 

  
He was still now, eyes shut. 

  
He actually looked quite peaceful even if his expression was slightly pained. Small mercies, she supposed.

  
She pulled a handkerchief from her dress-pants pocket and wiped the blood from his face as gently as she could, pushing sweaty curls from his forehead. She was terrified, but she didn't want to show it.

  
Happy had taken her aside and told her how he was most likely shot from afar. Somewhere outside of FRIDAY's ranges. 

  
Once he was done checking the guests, he'd review all the security tapes.

  
She didn't envy him, having to watch Peter taken down like that; she could feel herself choking up just thinking about his trembling form appearing all of a sudden, weakly calling out for Tony.

  
 _Why_?

  
Who would be out to get Peter? His Spider-Man identity was a secret - only the remaining Avengers, her and Happy, May, and Peter's friend, Ned, knew. 

  
Peter was adamant about keeping it that way. 

  
Unless… it was some messed up kind of opponent to Tony Stark, wanting to get to him through his intern? Tony had always had haters, always would. It just didn't make sense that anyone could hate Peter Parker. The media tonight had loved him. _Everyone_ loved him.

  
Something buzzed by her thigh and she noticed Peter's phone sticking out of his pants pocket. It was a text from May. 

  
May. Someone needed to call May.

  
_**10:22pm** Aunt May: Hope you're having an amazing time sweetie, I'm so proud of you. See you tomorrow - we'll do something nice, ok? Xx_

  
"Nothing that I can see up there, but that doesn't exactly reassure me. This is dangerous. I don't like it." Rhodey came through the stairwell door, suited up. He quickly headed straight for Pepper and Peter. "He out?"

  
"Yeah. Little colour's come back to his face, I think." She stroked a finger across his cheek bone. "Where's Tony?"

  
"Here. Let's go. We need to hurry." 

  
It was obvious that Tony had given himself a stern talking to, to pull himself together. 

  
His face had taken on that stoic quality that Pepper hated seeing, the one where he'd forced his emotions into a box, not to see the light of day till it was all too late for them to be dealt with properly.

  
Pepper grabbed a blanket and wrapped Peter's slack body in it as Tony held him close to his chest. She was pleased to see Peter's breathing was getting back to normal. "Be safe. And don't forget this." She handed Rhodey the dart.

  
"I've forewarned Mount Sinai ER of Peter's arrival. Protocol review of your route appears clear at this time, Boss. Peter's vitals seem to be stabilising a little already."

  
"Thanks. Let's bounce." 

  
It took all of 2 minutes to arrive, Peter being snatched from Tony's arms the second he touched down and stormed the entrance. Rhodey followed on, snapping at the doctors who tried to stop him that he'd had medical training and demanded to be present. 

  
Although Tony Stark wasn't one prone to embarrassment, he honestly didn't give a _shit_ how it looked to the public right now. 

  
War Machine (/Iron Patriot, but whatever) following Iron Man, barging into the Emergency Room carrying his sick intern and shouting for help like a kid down a well? He didn't give a shit.

  
Someone had done this to his kid. He wanted the entire goddamn world to know about it. 

  
His fists clenched as he promised himself that someone was going to hurt for this.

  
The bright white of the clinically-smelling waiting room was making him dizzy so he stepped outside by the ambulance bay and desuited. He sent it back to the Tower, reasoning he wouldn't be leaving for a while. 

  
He sat on a bench, where the rush of the paramedics and patients meant that he went unnoticed.

  
He _hated_ this kind of fear: the fear that someone he loved was going to be taken from him. It made his stomach roll and pitch when the immense hopelessness draped over him. It was definitely a feeling he could never describe, especially since Scarlet Witch had shown him his future. And the wormhole. 

  
_No._

  
Not now. _Not_ now. 

  
God, he wished Banner was here.

  
Losing people. It'd happened too many times before, and it made the next time so much worse - he wasn't sure how many strikes he had left before he completely broke, if he was honest.  


  
Was it his fault? Probably.

  
He felt sick thinking about Peter - sweet, kind, undeserving Peter - terrified and defenceless, in so much pain, going tense and beginning to fit right under his hands. That'd been when he'd thought it was all over. 

  
He really wished it was him instead of Peter. 

  
"Incoming call from Pepper Potts, Boss." His earpiece chirped.

  
"Okay." He replied.

  
_"Tony, is he alright? Are you there?"_

  
"Don't know yet. They took him from me."

  
Pepper's voice was soft. _"Okay. Keep me updated, okay?"_

  
Tony hummed an affirmative, mind already elsewhere.

  
_"And Tony. Someone needs to tell May."_

  
He didn't reply.

  
Pepper sighed. _"I'll do it, once we know what's going on and you're allowed to see him. There's no point putting her through waiting. Happy thinks we should send someone to her, just in case there's any danger - I think, for what it's worth, we should. I'll send him."_

  
Silence.

  
_"He's going to be okay, Tony."_

  
"Yeah." 

  
_"This isn't your fault."_

  
"You know you can't stop me from thinking that, Pep." He put his head in his hands and scrubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna go grab some coffee."

  
_"Alright. I love you."_

  
"Love you. Bye."

* * *

  
Rhodey came to sit by him in the waiting room after a while, saying Peter was stable and sleeping, that they were doing tests on what was in his system after Rhodey had made them all sign non-disclosure agreements and informed them of Peter's enhanced state. 

  
Helen Cho was too tied up to come, he'd said.

  
Tony'd nearly downed his third cup of hospital-brand sludge when he was finally fetched. Peter was starting to come round, they said, but he was restless. 

  
Tony pinged off a quick text to Happy to collect May and followed the nurse eagerly.

  
"We're still waiting on results of what exactly was in the dart - his… enhanced… body literally burned off whatever the poison was, so blood results were inconclusive. That explains the seizure - natural response when the body's working hard to fight something off. Poisons unit usually takes a while longer, so I'll let you know when that comes through."

  
"So he's okay? Relatively?" Rhodey asked.

  
"We think so. He's lucky. It's like his body's self defence knew what to do. I've never seen anything like it. Recovery time should be short and sweet, we think."

  
The door was held open to a ward and they were led to the room at the bottom. "Will he be in any pain?" Tony asked.

  
"I couldn't tell you. We'll take it as it goes, but it'll be good for him to have a couple friendly faces to wake up to either way." The nurse smiled at them in that way only medical professionals could - apology, sympathy and encouragement all rolled into one patronising expression - as she held the door open for them.

  
"Thank you." She nodded at him in return and gestured to the call button should Peter wake up.

  
Peter looked much better than he had before, but still nowhere near good. He looked pale and sickly, beads of sweat dotting his hairline, with a nasal cannula resting on his face. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and beginning to wake.

  
Tony pulled the chair as close as possible to the bed and tentatively took Peter's hand. He immediately felt better for seeing the kid.

  
Rhodey gave him a once over then ducked out. "I'll go meet May when she gets here." He said subtly.

  
Tony nodded gratefully, reaching up to manually check Peter's brow for fever. "You. Never do that again, y'hear me? Can't be getting frights like that in my old age, you know that."

  
He sat and allowed himself to be comforted by absently rubbing his thumb over Peter's hand for 20 or so minutes when he first felt the signs of him properly waking.

  
Straightening in his chair, he placed a hand on his forearm. Hope flickered in his chest, buoying him. "Peter? You with me?"

  
He stirred minutely, his tired face scrunching up in pain. His breathing ratcheted up and he squeezed Tony's hand almost unbearably tightly. 

  
His heart sank at seeing him in pain. What did he do? Tony Stark didn't know how to look after himself, let alone a kid! "Does it hurt? I'll get the doctor, hold on."

  
But as he spoke, he could see Peter flinch word-by-word, and it dawned on him. He dived for the light switch, plunging the room into near-darkness. Peter let out a soft whine, grappling for his hand again.

  
"Okay, Pete, okay." He whispered, searching the room for something. His eyes landed on the roller-table by his side, where there was some gauze and cotton balls. 

  
Once the cotton was in his ears, Peter relaxed. He swallowed and took a shuddering breath. Tony could hear his scratchy throat as he exhaled. 

  
Peter's eyes cracked open as he fixed his groggy gaze on Tony. He eyed him searchingly. "You okay?" 

  
Tony couldn't help but laugh. Trust that to be the first thing out of Peter Parker's mouth after a grand mal seizure. "Me? I'm peachy, kiddo. Forget about me, focus on yourself."

  
Peter's expression fell. "So s'rry." He whispered, distressed.

  
Tony started. _What?_

  
"Why, Peter?"

  
"Stupid."

  
Tony ground his teeth and reached forward for Peter's face, gently turning it so it was facing him. He was careful to make sure he didn't raise his voice above a low murmur. "Kid, if you say anything like that to me ever again, I will not hesitate to knock you into oblivion. This was _not_ your fault, okay? You did good. You got to me. _Not_ your fault. Not stupid. Do you hear me?"

  
Peter didn't reply. He instead turned his face into Tony's cool hand and sighed. "'m sick? Happened?" 

  
Tony quietly explained how Peter had been shot with the dart, and the state he'd found him in. He didn't seem to remember anything at all, which was probably good - Tony didn't want him to recall the way he was sobbing brokenly in the fetal position. 

  
He had to restrain himself from making his regular quips and jokes, finding he didn't have the heart to execute them anyway. Peter listened solemnly, his eyes shut the entire time - the only reason Tony knew he was still awake was the intensity with which he held his hand. 

  
As well as this, Peter was too loopy from the drugs, the pain and the post-seizure symptoms to really react too much. If this was the regular Peter, he'd be pinging off the walls with fear and adrenaline and every other emotion under the sun right now.

  
"May?"

  
"She's coming, kiddo, Pepper's calling her right now. So sleep if you need to."

  
Peter nodded and tried to settle down, curling onto his side facing Tony. Then he frowned.

  
"Ouch." He hugged his stomach and scrunched his face up as he pushed his nose into the pillow. "Ah, damn. Hurts."

  
"Okay. You're alright, kiddo. It's okay." Protectiveness slammed into Tony's gut, and he pressed the call button. 

  
"M'head, Tony. _Ow_." Peter croaked miserably. Tony squeezed his hand, unsure of what to do. A doctor and nurse came in then, staring about the dark room quizzically. Tony motioned at them to keep the lights off. "Sensory overload." He supplied.

  
The pair nodded in understanding, the nurse heading to the heart rate machine and silencing the beeps. She began to take Peter's vitals. 

  
Tony had to hold back a snort at her bewildered expression, because, _same_ \- Peter's readings probably were some of the wildest she'd ever seen. He turned his attention to the doctor who was preparing some kind of IV.

  
"He's hurting, doc." 

  
"I'll up his analgesia. He's burning it off quick, huh? Give him 20 milligrams of morphine, Sal."

  
After administering the drugs, the nurse pulled out the blue cashmere blanket that Pepper had wrapped Peter in and draped it over him. "His temp's a little down." She offered in explanation. "Should I get him some proper earplugs?"

  
Peter shifted and spoke up, "No, thank you." 

  
"Ever the gentleman, aren't you kid?"

  
The painkillers were starting to kick in, it seemed, because Peter huffed a laugh. "G'nna be embarrassed by this later."

  
"If you remember, that is - hey! Tell you what, I'll snap a couple pics." Peter laughed again. Tony smiled, knowing he'd caused it and that his kid was okay. "You feel better now?"

  
"Yeah."

  
"Still not too hot though. I can tell."

  
"Stop read'n me. M'fine. Always hot." 

  
"Sorry, kiddo. Habit."

  
Peter shifted his cannula a bit, then settled back down. 

  
They were still and quiet for a good while, but Peter wasn't asleep. Tony could just tell.  


  
Peter was feeling anxious and restless from the way he kept taking long, deep breaths to chill himself out.

  
"Hey, Peter?"

  
"Mhmm?"

  
"How's your Spidey sense right now?" He leaned forward in anticipation of the answer, hands steepled in his lap.

  
The kid opened his eyes at that. He licked his lips then winced at his bitten tongue.

  
His dilated eyes roamed the room as he quite clearly tried to look anywhere but Tony's face. When he answered, it sounded truthful; "Nothin' new." 

  
It took a second for Tony to think of what to reply but Peter beat him to it. "Promise, M'str Stark. S'fine. It's fine." 

  
Tony returned Peter's attempt at a smile (doped up to _fuck_ and adorable as hell). "I guess that's fine then, isn't it." He paused for a second, then added, "Sleep now, you look beat. I'll be right here."

  
"'kay." Peter, satisfied, finally let himself drift off.

  
Tony settled in too, ready to double-check all the security footage Happy had sent him.

  
The room was comfortable and dim, with only Peter in it. There was just the one bed, as Tony assumed Rhodey had asked for a private room in return for a Stark-supplied, cash-based donation. 

  
A while later, Tony stood to take a call from Pepper when his pant leg got caught on the bed. He turned to unsnag it when he realised it was Peter's hand, holding him back. He'd thought he'd been asleep.

  
"Stay? Don't like hospitals." 

  
Tony's heart broke into a thousand pieces. Of course he didn't. He remembered Peter mentioning it once after dislocating his shoulder and turning up at the Tower. 

  
_"Can… can we just do this here? You can just do it, I'll be okay, trust me, it doesn't hurt me as much as everyone else, and-and I'm not a huge fan of hospitals, really. They kinda remind me of my Uncle. Kinda remind me a lot, actually."_

  
"Of course." He sat back down bonelessly without a second thought.

  
"Thanks." Peter's voice was wobbly as hell from the drugs. Tony guessed that this was a one-time 'definitely not sober right now' thing.

  
_**2:31am** Me: He's good, sleeping right now, no pain. Rhodey can meet May at the entrance _  
_**2:32am** Me: Are you alright? Everything okay there?_  
_**2:34am** Pepper Potts: Yes, just call Happy as soon as May's with Peter. Glad to hear he's doing well x_  
_**2:34am** Pepper Potts: Also, May's a bit highly strung right now. Watch out._

  
Eep. 

  
Tony didn't know what he was more scared of.

  
Clearly very highly-trained, unknown and dangerous threat? 

  
Or castration?

  
He puffed his cheeks out in exhalation, widened his eyes and crossed his legs.

  
Castration it was.

* * *

  
To her credit, May hadn't immediately gone for Tony's throat. 

  
In fact, she hadn't gone for it at all.

  
She hugged him. 

  
_Hugged_ him (!) and thanked him repeatedly, praising how well he dealt with the situation and for taking care of her baby. Tony mused on how Peter would definitely never let any other person on this planet call him _baby_.

  
Peter woke when she sat down beside him and he immediately reached for her.

  
_"May."_ He breathed. May tucked the blankets around him, out of what was very obviously strong habit.

  
 _She's reigned it in for him. She's keeping calm for Peter._

  
"Hey, sweetie. Gotten yourself real scraped up this time, haven't you?" Peter nodded tiredly, cut lip trembling. 

  
"Oh, c'mere baby. It's alright, we're here. Everything's gonna be _fine_ , hear me?" Tony's heart constricted at the use of 'we' instead of 'I'. May sent him a small smile.

  
He ducked out to give them some privacy. 

  
Happy answered after a few rings. _"Hey Boss. I'm waiting outside."_

  
"Now? No offence, Hap, but I wasn't planning on-"

  
_"I'd recommend it, Boss."_

  
Tony sighed. "Alright. Gimme a minute. God, you're so _hasty_. And demanding." 

  
Happy's eye roll was audible as he hung up.

  
Peter was already out of it again when he popped his head round the door, May on the bed beside him, legs crossed, with a lapful of nephew. "He's good." She said simply.

  
"Cool. He scared the hell out of me, May." He replied in honesty. There was no point beating around the bush. "I can't even tell you how sorry I am this happened. But - I'm gonna fix it. We're already working on it. Just… don't move, okay?" He finger gunned at the both of them. 

  
"Don't think I have much choice." May quipped, gesturing to Peter's head resting on her chest. Tony's eyes trailed to the floor sadly. He contemplated saying something else, something apologetic… but came up empty. Huh. It had to be said, that was a first for Tony Stark.

  
"Go do what you have to do. And stop being sorry. Start being mad for what they did to Peter, okay?"

  
"Way ahead of you on that count."

  
"And you'll visit, for the love of God, won't you? Peter needs you right now." She added quietly.

  
"'course. Take care." _I need him too._

* * *

  
"Catch me up, Hap. What's the deal? Tell me you've figured this all out, that I just have to go beat some loser's ass and we can all go for cake and ice cream. Just laying that out here, that'd be preferable."

  
The eyes in the rear-view mirror gave Tony a half-exasperated, half-softened look before returning to the road. "No such luck I'm afraid Boss."

  
"Could've put my money on you saying that." Tony grumbled. 

  
He swiped his sunglasses out his pocket and put them on. It was 2am and he was all of a sudden too tired for a chronic insomniac.

  
"Pepper had a suspicion Peter's drinks were spiked. That's why he seemed blind-ass drunk when he went to the roof."

  
Tony nodded. Pepper was so damn clever.

  
"We only realised that after we'd dismissed everyone, which is a real bitch. We've tried to get ahold of the wait staff, but only 3 have reported back - Peter's waitress, and the barman, weren't among them." 

  
Well _duh_. Nothing was ever simple. "Beautiful. What else?" 

  
"Well… I dunno, boss, but I can't find anything in the CCTV. FRIDAY would know if tapes had been tampered with or looped, right? It's almost as if everything's _too_ calm. I tried to track where the drinks were coming from, you know, who was pouring them, but they were all pre-made. As in, brought into the building poured and ready. It isn't unusual at big functions, I guess. So I'm not sure."

  
"Only Peter was drinking non-alcoholic drinks." Tony added, catching on.

  
"Right. That's probably how they knew how to target him. So we got the glasses checked, and there were traces of _something_ , I don't know what, in one of them. Something designed to take down Spider-Man, I guess. No prints on them but Peter's and ours either, which is weird."

  
"We can compare it with the hospital lab results on the dart when they're done." Tony regretted having given them the dart - he could do things ten times faster in his own lab, but Peter's immediate health came before revenge.

  
It'd started to rain and the windscreen wipers booted up automatically. Tony's eyes followed them. "So what now?"

  
"With that? Not sure. It's not a dead end, we just need to know where to take it next. And there's still the dart to consider, don't forget."

  
"The dart. Right."

  
Happy seemed about to launch into another explanation when he paused. His eyes narrowed. "You alright Boss?"

  
"Right as rain." Tony replied sarcastically, rolling down the window enough to stick his hand out and feel the downpour on his palm.

  
Happy hesitated. "Well, I think I know which building it came from judging from how it… lodged... into Peter's neck and where he was sitting. It's a clear shot, Boss. FRIDAY's downloading all the CCTV footage off their private server right now, but I'm guessing the cameras will have been taken out, if they have any sense." He conceded.

  
"Great. Fantastic."

  
"I'm sorry, Tony."

  
Tony sighed. It wasn't their fault. "Don't be. Thanks for your work, Hap, really. You're the best."

  
Happy's expression turned smug for a second. "I'll get back on tracking down the caterers. Is Rhodey still at the hospital?"

  
"Yeah. Keeping an eye on the Parkers."

  
"Good. Probably not a good idea to leave them alone right now."

  
A prick of anxiety shot through Tony. 

  
"God, I need a drink."

* * *

  
Pepper tried to insist he get some sleep with her, but he couldn't even if he wanted to. He was bubbling with nervous energy - not the excitable type that Peter had seemingly endless reserves of, but the lump in your throat, shaking hands, aching head type. 

  
He spoke to Vision for a while but hung up feeling no less at a loss than before. It was nice to hear his voice, he guessed.

  
He sent Happy to bed too. It was easier for him to think when he was alone. 

  
Peter always joked that Mr Stark would build a supervillain's underground lair if it would just get him some peace and quiet.

  
Happy was right: the CCTV from the building opposite had been wiped, or looped. Dead end.

  
He tried tracking down the caterers: they were the same ones Pepper always used, but when he finally got ahold of the manager (through her… personal… phone number… that had required a touch of shameless hacking...), she had eventually gotten over her sleepy grouchiness to inform him that she had no bookings at Stark Tower last night, or for the last 2 months, in fact.

  
So they'd been duped. 

  
Obviously. 

  
How, or why, he had no clue. He scrubbed his eyes and sniffed, standing up straight from his chair and beginning to pace, spinning a pen between his fingers. Every time he reached a wall, he'd spin on his heel dramatically and set off again.

  
Being Sherlock Holmes wasn't going to work for him, clearly.

  
For Tony Stark, waiting for the threat to come back to him and fighting it face to face always seemed to be a better plan. 

  
But this time, he couldn't do that.

  
He couldn't use Peter as bait. It made him nervous to even think of it - he couldn't keep tabs on the kid at all times, could he?

  
No. That was stupid - he tried to hold back on tracking Peter as much as he could, only briefly reviewing his time as Spider-Man once a week before sending the data to May.

  
The suit was only set to contact him if Peter was hurt, and even then there was a distinct line between mildly hurt - _Karen won't call me when you're whimpering about a splinter or anything, Peter, don't worry. Your precious puberty-threatened masculinity can remain intact. It's just for if you lose a kidney or… bust a nut or something like that. Don't repeat that. I don't actually know what that phrase means_ \- and severely injured or unconscious. 

  
But what else could he do? If they had no leads, what could they do?

  
Frustrated, he downed the rest of his drink and let it thoroughly burn his throat. He text May to check on Peter, and hit up the elevator on a whim. He'd go check out the roof for himself.

  
Since sleep wasn't an option, and hospital visitors weren't allowed till 9am, he may as well.

  
He didn't know what he was hoping for, but at the back of his mind he knew it certainly wasn't _jackshit all_. Didn't criminals love leaving cryptic messages? Codes? Mystery boxes? This was some shit _Cluedo_ game.

  
He went back to pacing and drinking.

  
When it was nearing sunrise, his mind wandered back to how Peter was, and he saw that May had sent him a couple texts when he picked up his cell.

  
_**4:32am** Scary Aunt May: he's okay, a little restless. Should be okay after some food and sleep, i hope_  
_**5:44am** Scary Aunt May: Peter's asleep now but he seems nervous  & he's got a fever. He's been asking for you_  
_**6:01am** Me: on my way_  
_**6:01am** Scary Aunt May: thanks Tony_

* * *

  
Peter was throwing up when Tony arrived. The lights had been turned on again and May was holding a basin for him whilst a nurse rubbed his back.

  
Tony felt awkward watching the intimate moment so he hovered by the doorway. 

  
"Sorry… sorry…" 

  
"Don't apologise, sweetie. It's what I'm here for!" The nurse replied chirpily. As she turned, she caught sight of Tony leaning against the door frame and smiled knowingly. "I'll let you off for disobeying the visiting hours. He's mentioned you a few times." 

  
May handed the departing nurse the basin as Peter lay back, sweaty and spent. "I don't think I like hospital food."

  
"Good call, kid." Tony strode into the room, sitting in the other vacant chair next to May.

  
Peter's face brightened a little. "Hey, Mr Stark."

  
"Hey yourself, kiddo. How you feeling?"

  
"Like I could do a mountain marathon." Peter's voice was weak as hell. May patted his hand, chuckling.

  
"The doctor said he's on a come-down from the reaction. Not gonna be pleasant."

  
Tony frowned and murmured a, "Sorry to hear that, kiddo." 

  
Peter smiled at him and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he opened them again, pupils darting about before settling on Tony again. He exhaled. 

  
May shot Tony a quick glance too. Then she half stood and kissed Peter on the forehead, carding her fingers through his hair a couple times. "I'll be right back." 

  
"Okay." Peter whispered. He looked slightly nervous when she left.

  
Tony took her seat and then Peter's hand, pleased when the kid didn't stiffen up and instead gripped it back.

  
"How are you _really_ feeling, Pete."

  
"Like shit."

  
Tony faked a shocked gasp. "Cursing! And from you of all people, Tiny Tim!" Peter shot him an amused glare. "Okay, I'll give you a free pass just this once. You're taking it like a champ, Pete." He tacked on softly.

  
Peter swallowed convulsively and Tony practically jumped out his skin when he thought the kid would throw up - thankfully, he lay back, puffing his cheeks out and blowing out slowly.

  
"You alright?"

  
"Dizzy." Understatement. He looked absolutely wretched.

  
Tony reached out his free hand and placed it over Peter's eyes and brow. "S'alright. Breathe."

  
He did, and Tony followed suit. It was amazing how much being around Peter helped him - Peter had brought it up once, about how knowing each other's anxieties probably helped them, because both of them were notorious for bottling it up.

  
Tony had realised that confiding in a kid rather than an adult had been the best thing he'd ever done; kids, Peter even moreso, were empathetic and didn't try to force solutions on you. Adults just loved to throw their well-meaning advice onto you without actually listening to what you were talking about or how you were feeling about it.

  
Of course, he didn't tell Peter everything, but the day he'd explained to Peter that he took medication, and some of the reasons why (namely the events surrounding Germany, his guilt-complex, and the shitshow-themed mental health legacy his parents had left behind), he'd begun to heal a little bit. Not completely, not even a lot. But a bit.

  
Peter had done the same too, telling Tony about his fight with the Vulture ( _wait. Hang on. Stop a sec. Hush it. You did **what?!**_ ), most of his school stresses (clearly editing out the _teasing_ , which Tony was definitely not done with yet, but okay), and what had happened to his Uncle Ben. 

  
The two had triggered a healing process within each other by both being stubborn assholes. And it was cringey and beautiful.

  
"When can I get outta here?" Peter voiced faintly.

  
Tony withdrew his hand, sighing. "Not sure. As soon as possible. We need to figure out how we're gonna deal with this."

  
"Because… I don't think I'm gonna feel any better if I'm here. I'm too nervous. I can't really sleep. I dunno… it's hard."

  
"Yeah? Your Spidey senses?" 

  
Peter hesitated, looking for the right words.

  
"It's like being ready to fight at any second, Mr Stark. It's the hospital."

  
"I know. I know. I do." Peter smiled, embarrassed. "I'll see if I can get you moved to the Tower, okay?"

  
"Thank you, Mr Stark."

  
"S'alright. You really think you can't sleep? Because I could sure do with some shut-eye and I'd hate to miss a moment entertaining a Rugrat like you." If Pepper could see him now, she'd be laughing her ass off. Tony Stark, willing to sleep? Tony Stark _who?_

  
He shifted uncomfortably but relented. "Okay. I'll try. Shut off the lights?"

  
Tony did so, and they both settled. 

  
_Buzz._

  
_**6:30am** Rhodes: Tones, I just got back. You gotta see this._  
_**6:30am** Rhodes: Attachment_

  
Unlocking his phone, Tony was greeted with an image.

  
He felt like the floor had been swept out from under him.

  
A paper plane, unfolded. A message, written in perfect cursive. 

  
_How many lives do spiders have?_


	3. Chapter 3

  
A round of applause and joyous cries drifted from the living area as Tony plated up the sandwiches.

  
"She went for it! Mr Stark, she went for the mermaid gown!"

  
"Hold on, hold on! Send it back a couple minutes, c'mon, lemme see! Fill me in. She went for the Pnona Tornai?"

  
"It's _Pnina_ Tornai, Mr Stark, and yeah, she did." Peter didn't look away from the TV as Tony handed him his plate, hurdling the back of the sofa to sit on it. 

  
"Oh, yeah. That's way more flattering than the A-line. David pull that out?"

  
"Yeah."

  
"Her old man doesn't look too impressed." He pointed at the screen with his BLT and snorted.

  
"$18,000 _is_ a lot for a dress."

  
Tony pursed his lips and lolled his head to look at Peter, eyebrows raised. He tugged on the hem of his suit jacket. "Kid, for your benefit, I'll pretend you didn't say that."

  
Peter breathed a laugh through his nose then looked up, surprised at the clink of enamel where Tony has tapped the edge of Peter's plate with his own. "And eat, thank you. I slaved over that." 

  
"Sorry." 

  
Tony continued to watch how the kid hesitantly bit at the toasted bread and forced himself to hold back a sigh. 

  
He had to give it to him - for what he'd gone through, a one day recovery period was seriously impressive; the hospital had discharged him on the grounds that he didn't exert himself, that he was monitored for at least the next 48 hours and that he kept up on his fluids.

  
And it just so happened that the second they'd gotten him into the penthouse, Peter had perked up to almost his old self, which was nothing less than a genuine fucking relief.

  
Pepper had suggested renting a new place, for security, but Peter always went quiet and reserved the second he caught wind of time and, god forbid, _money_ being spent on him, so Tony rejected the idea. 

  
Besides, the Tower had FRIDAY and generally just superior security to anywhere else. Sure, it was an obvious spot for an attacker to target, but they'd have to be pretty advanced to get to Peter inside.

  
… so long as the kid stayed off the roof.

  
Jeez. Fun.

  
The pair sat in comfortable silence for a while as the next episode of _Say Yes to the Dress_ began, Peter curled into the corner of the sofa, Tony with his legs stretched out onto the ottoman. Peter seemed engrossed in the show, but if the past couple of days had taught him anything, it was that Peter Parker was an excellent actor when he wanted to be.

  
It was confirmed to him when an ad break began and Peter's gaze fell to the floor. His right thumb twisted tightly round his left hand as his eyes darted to the windows and up to the roof. 

  
They lingered there for a split second before probably realising Tony was staring at him. Shooting him a quick smile, he settled back on the TV.

  
God damnit, Tony had wanted to pass on his _strengths_ onto Peter, not his unhealthy coping mechanisms _disguised_ as strengths. 

  
It'd taken him years to figure out that outwardly appearing fine whilst having Freak-out of the Century inside wasn't actually something he should be proud of. 

  
That didn't mean he didn't still do it - it was well-rehearsed and perfected, and useful at times. 

  
Like now. 

  
Hopefully Peter saw Tony Stark as the Tony Stark that had saved the world on more than one occasion: he could handle a death threat or two.

  
But. 

  
Truthfully, he couldn't, because this was Peter.

  
His voice hadn't even finished breaking yet, and someone was after him. Someone wanted to kill him, for god's sake! 

  
He wouldn't bring it up yet, if only because the kid was kind of a pro at keeping his head in times of trouble and he didn't want to insult that.

  
That, and he didn't know if he was being too much.

  
In all honesty, he'd never had any experience in how to take care of a kid. Let alone one as brilliant as Peter Parker.

  
He _never_ knew if he was overstepping with Peter, encroaching into what was decidedly May's territory. 

  
So far, Peter had never rejected Tony's attempts at comfort but it was important that the kid knew that Tony was offering help _whenever_ , not just when he was squeezing his hand.

  
 _"At least with the Vulture I knew what he had against me - what's this dude's problem? I know Spider-Man has enemies, but they're all people that hotwire Audis for fun…"_

  
His phone sat on the arm of the chair and he flipped it over to check that the sound was on. 

  
It lit up with nothing more than a text that he'd already seen - from May, that she was getting off in an hour and would bring some stuff for Peter, including homework, which had gotten a delighted grin out of the kid. Ned was coming round on Saturday to finish their history project.

  
He only got halfway through a text to Rhodey asking if there were any updates when he selected the text and deleted it; Rhodey would've text if there was news. 

  
Sighing, he absently swiped up through yesterday's conversation till it landed on the photo of the message. 

  
He hadn't told Peter about that yet. 

  
It wasn't like he wasn't going to, Peter could handle knowing. And he needed to know.

  
Just not till he was completely back on his feet.

  
He analysed the picture for the millionth time before letting his attention drift to the messages below. He chuckled to himself; he freaked out for 11 minutes before Rhodey lost his patience with him.

  
_**6:30am** Rhodes: Tones, I just got back. You gotta see this._  
_**6:30am** Rhodes: Attachment _  
_**6:41am** Rhodes: You there? _  
_**6:41am** Me: I can't call right now, Peter's sleeping. Rhodey do not tell me someone threw that at your head because that's kinda funny_  
_**6:41am** Rhodes: Ha ha, so funny. You need to focus up here man. It was on the roof, dropped by drone? I don't know. What we do know is that they know he's Spider-Man and that gives us some more ground to run on. Will grab a couple hours sleep and get on it._  
_**6:42am** Me: Appreciating you right now xxxxx :* :* :*  <3 <3 _  
_**6:43am** Rhodes: Shut up_  
_**6:43am** Rhodes: xx_

  
Wow, he was _good_. He barely remembered the conversation since he was all tied up feeling like he'd been bludgeoned with a brick, but it seemed he'd carried it off pretty well. 

  
The TV quieting caught his attention from scrolling down his Twitter feed as he saw Peter rubbing his temple with one hand, the other on the volume button of the remote.

  
"Headache?"

  
"Barely."

  
"Tired?"

  
"Uh-huh."

  
"Mm-hm."

  
Like he said, the return to the penthouse had seen Peter resurrected to _almost_ his old self: if a bit sleepier. 

  
Peter sat forward carefully and yawned. It was obvious he was still a little sore. Tony rubbed his back.

  
He cocked his head to the side, in the direction Peter was leaning. "You alright?"

  
Peter rested his head on his hands and let his eyes slip shut.

  
"Is it weird if I say it's… nice to not be super-charged? For once I don't feel like I could swing around Queens all night."

  
"Kinda weird. But also not really. It's nice to not be the Wile E. Coyote to your Road Runner for once."

  
Peter sniffed and smiled. "Outdated reference? I'm guessing Road Runner is smart and super handsome and… Wildy Coyote… can't keep up with him."

  
Tony gawked. "You've _never_ seen Road Runner? Pepé Le Pew? _Marvin the Martian?!_ "

  
Peter shook his head, laughing sympathetically - this had been his exact reaction when he'd found out Tony hadn't seen the Star Wars sequels.

  
"Kid… if you weren't due to be laid down for a nap right now, you'd be getting some _serious_ Looney Tunes education." 

  
"Afterwards?" Peter asked hopefully.

  
"Sure. Catch some Zs first, okay?" 

  
His cellphone started ringing and he stood. "Catch you in a bit squirt."

  
Rhodey and Happy had nothing much to report apart from the fact that the results from the hospital had come back in, and the essential components of the drug in the dart matched up with whatever it was they'd found in the glasses. It'd been what they were expecting, but it did mean Tony could synthesize a counter-reactant in case Peter got shot again, using whatever they had left in the glasses.

  
He felt uneasy entertaining the thought, but he had to face up to it.

  
Returning to the living area, he poured himself some strong coffee and sat at the table to get started on some things to show May.

  
He instructed Friday to open a couple windows; it was dark outside and the rain had finally stopped, leaving the world outside a slow and soft atmosphere. 

  
It was nice to relish the calm and focus on things that gave him control. Namely, his ideas on how to keep Peter safe.

  
That was why he got the fright of his life when he heard whimpering coming from the couch. 

  
He stood quickly to hush Peter, whose forehead was creased in discomfort. 

  
His breathing was harsh but settled quickly when Tony ran the back of his thumb across the creases into his hairline. 

  
He murmured "Hey, it's alright," again and again till the nightmare was over.

  
Peter didn't wake, and after a couple minutes Tony turned to go back to his seat when he saw Pepper standing a few feet behind him, her hands clasped over her heart. She stuck her bottom lip out for effect.

  
Tony jumped, not expecting to see her there. "Jeez! Are you all out to give me a heart attack tonight?" 

  
Pepper encircled her arms around his waist. "Sorry." she whispered, "You're just so cute."

  
Tony fake-cringed away from her kiss. "Cute?" He made a _Family Fortunes_ -style buzzer sound in the back of his throat. "Try again."

  
"Oh, I'm sorry. _Too incredibly adorable for words?_ "

  
"Better." They kissed and he pulled her head to his chest. "I mean, I was more looking for 'in impeccable physical shape', but adorable's okay too I guess."

  
"Enough."

  
"Alright."

  
Pepper leaned round to cast an eye on Peter. She bit her lip. "Is he okay?"

  
"About as good as he's gonna get. He's a good kid."

  
"He is. And he's got you, so that helps."

  
"You really like this paternal thing on me, don't you, huh?"

  
"It's growing on me."

  
They separated, Pepper grabbing Tony's mug off the table and making them both a fresh cup of coffee. She sat next to Tony and regarded his sketches silently.

  
"A lot of people are calling to ask about Wednesday night." She ventured.

  
Tony put his pencil down and looked at her. "Oh? What did you tell them?"

  
"That Peter was messing with some new weaponry on the roof and got shot."

  
Tony barked a laugh. "Mmm. Sounds believable."

  
"Well there really isn't much else I can say when they all _quite clearly_ saw a big fat dart hanging out of his neck, Tony." Pepper retorted, immediately defensive.

  
"I'm kidding, honey. They're all idiots anyway, more money than sense. They'll eat anything that's plated under their noses."

  
"Uh-huh, they did. Apart from… Jake Keenan?" She waited for Tony to nod in recognition - Jake was going to be the head of the homeless shelter and its outreach - before continuing. "He was really… perturbed. I couldn't tell you how much of it he believed."

  
"Makes sense. He knows Peter personally, and knows he's not idiotic enough to mess with some tranquilizer gun. Hey, are we still going ahead with the shelter right now? Or should we wait?"

  
"I think for what it's worth we should go ahead. I'll call Jake tomorrow, get things properly in motion. Keep the public eye distracted, if anything." Tony nodded. Peter would be pleased.

  
"Boss, Ms Parker's here." FRIDAY chimed in quietly so as not to wake Peter.

  
"I'll see her up."

* * *

  
After talking it through for a while, Tony and May decided to keep Peter at the Tower for at least the next two weeks. 

  
It'd be his choice whether he started back at school with everyone else but either way, it seemed prudent to have him where it was safest. 

  
"It's strange at home," May was sat by Peter. He was completely out of it, mouth hanging slack, curled up in the blankets with his arm hanging off the couch, "without him around, I mean."

  
Tony nodded. He felt something of the same without Peter around, too.

  
May shuffled the papers in her lap so they all straightened out, putting a couple aside. 

  
It couldn't be said by anyone who encountered him for more than a handful of seconds that Tony Stark was a coy man.

  
But having May Parker review his ideas on how to keep her nephew safe? He couldn't help but tear the napkin he was holding to shreds.

  
"I understand the alert system, the… in-ear comm. It makes sense, but Tony, is it really necessary? If Happy's ferrying him to and from school and he doesn't go out alone, and _no_ patrolling," Tony cringed at that - Peter would nigh-on lose his mind, but it was necessary, "does he need this _as well_?"

  
"You think it'd freak him out, huh?" 

  
"No, it's not even that. I don't know. Is it a little much?"

  
Tony frowned before standing. He left for his office, retrieving the unfurled paper plane. He handed it to May. "It was on the roof."

  
May's horrified expression was almost enough to make Tony rip it from her hands and set it alight, claim it was all a joke. She unconsciously put a hand in Peter's hair. "When were you going to show me this?" She breathed.

  
"I'll be honest, I'm not sure." It was always a better idea to just be completely upfront with May.

  
"Well… what does this mean? What's _happening_ Tony? I hate this. I hate this!" Peter twisted in his sleep at the sudden exclamation, May sliding her hand down to his cheek to settle him without even breaking eye contact with Tony. "I thought this was just some Tony Stark hater trying to protest the shelter, not some… _predator sicko_ trying to get my baby!"

  
He held his breath for a second to compose himself. There was no point arguing. "I'm trying my best, May."

  
May deflated. "I… I know. I'm sorry. It's just scary. I don't take it well when people don't return Peter's smile on the street, for god's sake, let alone this. This is really not the kind of problem I expected my 16-year-old to have."

  
Tony huffed a laugh. Him neither.

  
"So we have to be prepared for anything, is what you're saying." May gestured back to the papers. "The hearing aid comm sounds more reasonable now."

  
"Yeah. Yeah, and it'd be completely subtle, he'd barely feel it. Kid'll probably lose it in the shower. And it only activates to alert me when he says a certain phrase. I would make him a bracelet, or something, but those things are the first things a kidnapper'd confiscate if they saw him messing with it." Having said that, he wasn't sure if he'd gone too far in justifying it, but May simply nodded resolutely.

  
"Okay. Yeah." 

  
"And I'll get some security set up at your apartment - nothing too invasive. Just enough to be sure."

  
"Sure. And…what about Peter himself? How does he protect himself? Can he wear the suit under his clothes?"

  
"I'll speak to him about it. I'll do everything I can, May, I promise." 

  
"I know. I can't thank you enough, Tony."

  
"I wish you wouldn't. This whole thing kind of feels like my fault."

  
May fixed Tony with a stern stare and suddenly he felt guilty for everything he'd ever done in his life. Damn, he didn't envy a misbehaving Peter one bit right now. "I think I remember telling you to stop being sorry."

  
"Uh-huh. You did. I'll get right on that. Thanks."

  
The glare morphed into a tired smile. "Pepper said to join her with wine." She smirked, eyeing Tony and then eyeing the bar. 

  
Tony laughed. Of course she did. "Be my guest." 

  
She agonised over the selection for a few moments before making her choice, swiping up two glasses. "Thank you!" She flourished the movement in a dancing motion, calling, "Let me know when he wakes!" as she left the room.

  
Tony took her place next to Peter and flicked through the channels on mute. He was just settling into a car renovation show when Peter pulled his drooping arm under the blanket. "Don't make me wear the Spidey suit to school. So hard to go to the bathroom."

  
Tony chuckled as he dropped his head back to meet the back of the couch. "You heard that, huh."

  
"Enhanced senses. Whispering isn't the same thing to me."

  
"Touché. I'll bear that in mind."

  
Peter pushed himself up, blinking sleep away from his eyes. Tony passed him the tall glass of orange juice that he'd poured for when he woke. Peter downed half of it, much to Tony's happiness, and sat back so that his shoulder was against his.

  
"Can I see the paper?"

  
Tony bit the inside of his cheek, considering. He puffed his chest out with a long-suffering, heavy exhale but handed it over anyway. 

  
Peter was silent as he inspected it, then gave it back. "Nice handwriting."

  
"Yeah. You okay?"

  
"I guess. S'weird."

  
" _Way_ weird. Do you want to go back to school on Monday, Pete?"

  
Peter didn't even hesitate. "Yeah. I don't wanna hide. Not gonna lie though, having someone targeting me is kinda scary, but it's cool."

  
"Cool?" Tony laughed. "I can't believe it. I feel as if I'm supposed to say, 'Ah, yes, I remember getting _my_ first death threat.', as if it's your first Valentine or something."

  
That elicited a chuckle out of Peter. "You know what I mean, though, right? It's _cool_. I bet _no_ kid at school has had a bona fide death threat before. Actually, I think Liddy Froomes' Uncle threatened to kill Justin Walker for getting her pregnant. Stuck a note on his locker."

  
"Oh my god, that is… you know what, I'm not going to even justify that with a response. Bona fide death threat? That's what kids find exciting these days? You couldn't just be satisfied with being THE Tony Stark's pal, huh?"

  
Peter grinned. "Oh, we're pals, are we?"

  
Tony looked at him affectionately. He brought the hand he'd had resting behind his neck to Peter's head and mussed his hair up roughly. "'course we are. Best pals." He exhaled slowly. "Cool. I can't believe you called it 'cool', Peter. You are seriously funny. And not funny ha ha, either. _Totally_ funny peculiar."

  
Peter paused in trying to tidy up his hair. "Yeah. I mean, it's also really not cool. I don't like doing this to May or you."

  
Tony's mind flashed back to a barely-conscious Peter in the hospital bed, apologising. "Uh, excuse me. Yeah. Can we quit it with the self-blame?" 

  
"You first." Peter mumbled.

  
Tony flashed a disciplinary wilting glance at the kid, who sank further into the cushions. He waved a floppy arm at the paper plane, its fold lines practically smoothed out from so much handling. "It's Spider-Man's fault though, isn't it."

  
_**7:59pm** Pepper Potts: More wine_

  
Tony buzzed his lips and stood, using Peter's knee as support. "Peter, if preventing muggings and giving directions warrants a dart to the neck, you'd best sign me right up for the next slot on death row."

* * *

  
Each night, Tony found himself hovering about the penthouse till FRIDAY let him know Peter was asleep. 

  
He knew the AI would let him know if anything was wrong. He just couldn't help but worry. 

  
The nightmares hadn't been awful, and yet, they weren't mild either. Tony couldn't figure out why - what was worse was neither could Peter.

  
The kid insisted he was _okay, really, truly, honestly, Mr Stark_ , and Tony believed him. His edginess had died down quite a bit, especially when Tony or May were around, and he'd even tried to get out patrolling. That had been funny.

  
In fact, he hadn't left the penthouse since he'd gotten there on the Thursday evening. It was now Sunday, and he was due to go back to school tomorrow.

  
So what were these nightmares about?

  
Peter couldn't remember, even when he'd just woken from them. He calmed down straight away and would sometimes be asleep before FRIDAY could alert Tony - they were just so often, it meant the kid's quality of sleep was suffering. Which meant he still wasn't 100%.

  
He had dark circles under his eyes, and his appetite still wasn't right for someone with a hummingbird's metabolism. 

  
May had tried to warn him from going to school too soon; unfortunately for her, Ned had been there the day before to work on the project, so Peter was all juiced up about seeing his friends, and the thrills of education, or something like that.

  
Whatever May held in the glare she'd submitted Tony to on Friday had been quelled and ultimately died under the power of Peter's puppy dog expression. It was an amazing battle of wills Tony would never forget. 

  
_Note to self: Puppy eyes work on Pepper?_

  
So that was that. Peter was starting back at Midtown tomorrow morning, with his earpiece and his web subtle shooter-installed watch, and the promise not to leave the building farther than the lunch quad.

  
It had been a resounding _no_ on wearing the suit under his clothes. Tony respected that.

  
The past few days had been spent doing homework and watching _Looney Tunes_. And Tony trying to get Peter to eat more.

  
Peter especially liked Yosemite Sam which for some reason Tony had completely expected. The kid was really starting to get under his skin - but not in a bad way. He could feel himself welcoming it each day he was there.

  
Jake Keenan had come up as per Pepper's request. The first few fully-fledged committers to the rehabilitation programme were due tomorrow, and the kitchens were opening for the first time from 12. Peter was really pleased.

  
Jake had brought Peter a huge bag of candy (Tony suspected Pepper had told him to bring something appetising, dually because Peter needed to eat as well as the fact that he was too polite to refuse a gift) which had certainly piqued his interest, but Tony was still yet to see him eat any. It sat on his nightstand, the seal-tape in place.

  
 _ **11:48pm** Me: Hi Ned. Can you make sure Peter eats his lunch tomorrow? He's being a pain in the ass about eating recently._  
_**11:48pm** Me: Don't tell your mom I said ass_  
_**11:48pm** Ned Leeds: Mister stark is that you? WOW I didn't know you had my number. Ofc I will, u can count on me_  
_**11:49pm** Ned Leeds: Ofc I will make sure he gets lunch, not tell my mom_  
_**11:49pm** Me: Get to bed! It's a school night_  
_**11:49pm** Ned Leeds: Yes sir_

  
"Peter has entered REM sleep, Boss."

  
"Thanks FRI." _About time_.

* * *

  
Happy dropped him off early so Peter was pleased to find MJ and Ned waiting for him under the science block staircase.

  
It felt normal and _good_ to plop down beside them and pull out his textbook, sharing morning snacks.

  
"How're you feeling?" MJ pushed the almonds towards him as she popped one in her mouth. "You look tired as hell."

  
How _was_ he feeling? 

  
Nervous. Excited. Nervous-excited? 

  
More nervous than excited.

  
Exhausted.

  
A little nauseous, if he was honest. 

  
"Good." He waved his hand in refusal of the almonds. He missed the glance Ned and MJ exchanged as he took a swig from his water bottle. "No, thanks. But yeah. Excited to be back at school, you know? Feels like it's been forever."

  
"I can't believe you had a fit, man. That's scary as hell. And you're here! I'd be milking it for all I've got."

  
"I thought because of the whole enhanced human thing and all that you couldn't get sick? Did the doctors say why?"

  
Peter had decided not to tell them what had happened, just because it made him feel kind of uneasy to talk about. 

  
As much as he loved them, it would hype the two up no end, and he just wanted to come to school and talk about comic books, the Red Shift Effect and the new game system setup Mr Stark had installed in his room.

  
He swallowed. "Uh, yeah, they just said I had too much sensory input. There were a ton of people there, and it was hot, and there were those bright lights outside that shone straight up into the sky, and I just kinda… dropped."

  
Ned shook his head and reached for the chips, muttering a, "Dude." as MJ stared at him in outright concern. "So how come you're staying at Stark's?"

  
"Getting work done on the apartment." That wasn't a lie. Mr Stark was installing cameras and security systems onto all the windows and doors. It made his stomach flip-flop. "And because of the game system I have at the Tower, did I show you it? It's _awesome_ , and Mr Stark says you can come round anytime to play it, you should come round tonight…"

  
_Great save, Peter._

* * *

  
If Peter had been looking over his shoulder when he left for school on Monday, he was a paranoid _mess_ by Friday. 

  
The entire fortnight had been one long, slow, downhill blur.

  
The only consolation he had was getting back to the Tower each evening and getting straight into bed for awhile. He didn't sleep, just stuck a movie on and turned the volume up till he couldn't think.

  
At around 4, 5 or, on bad days, 6, Mr Stark would be done with his meetings and work, and Peter would leap to switch off the TV and pretend he'd been doing his homework the entire time. 

  
He'd let Mr Stark drag him into the kitchen to faux-enthusiastically tell him about his day as he made dinner, to reassure him that nothing out of the ordinary had been happening at school.

  
Because it _hadn't._

  
There was _nothing_ wrong. At all! At _all_. 

  
And it was killing him.

  
It was killing him that there was nothing wrong. Yeah, he was allowed to be anxious, there was some guy out to get him, but still! This was too much.

  
And it was killing him that every day that he told Mr Stark everything was A-OK, Mr Stark believed him. 

  
For the love of god, he wanted nothing more than for Mr Stark to raise his patented eyebrow, and go, "Yeah, right, kid. What's wrong?"

  
Nothing made him feel better till they sat on the couch together and watched something. Till Mr Stark puts his arm around him and lets his head fall onto his shoulder, and murmurs, "You sure everything's okay?"

  
Yeah, Tony, everything's peachy. I'm definitely not throwing up the perfectly nice dinner you've made me 20 minutes after I've forced it down, when you think I'm getting homework done.

  
I'm definitely not zoning out _all the time_ , missing the entire crux of the films we watch, or half an hour of class, or snapping back to awareness in the school library, wondering how I got there.

  
And, no, my brain doesn't feel like the static on Uncle Ben's old TV when the aerial lost signal. 

  
It was after being asked that question that Peter would pretend he wanted to sleep, nodding a, "Yeah, of course." into Tony's arm and letting his breathing lull him off.

  
He wished _so badly_ he didn't, but he had to. He didn't know why.

  
He didn't know much these days.

  
Each day, he felt like he was on auto-pilot, laughing when he felt like he should be laughing, keeping his head down as much as he could. 

  
He knew MJ and Ned had noticed, but they seemed placated by his explanation that he couldn't sleep well in the Tower like he could back in the apartment. 

  
He wasn't really replying to their texts as much but that was mostly alright because by the second week of being back at school, they'd accompany him home every afternoon and just sit with him, doing work, or Legos, or playing on the Xbox till Tony came back.

  
Peter appreciated it a lot; they didn't ask too many questions, just knew that them being there made him feel a tiny bit more… alright. 

  
The weekend was okay. Better. 

  
He and Tony spent the entire time in the lab, avoiding anyone and everyone. That wasn't hard, since the only people that came up to the penthouse was May, Ned and MJ, Rhodey, a few people to do with the shelter, and the cleaning staff. 

  
But it was nice. Just the two of them. Tony and May were the only people that made him feel safe anymore. 

  
They updated the suit to be more bullet- and dart-proof around the obvious areas, and generally tinkered. 

  
Aunt May had agreed that when he moved back to the apartment, if everything stayed quiet, he only had 2 more weeks before he was allowed to go out on a patrol - it was keeping him going, imagining the freedom of swinging from wall-to-wall again.

  
On the Saturday he was meant to be moving back to his apartment, he woke on the couch. 

  
Usually, Tony would wake him and move him to bed when he fell asleep there. This time, he was covered by his bedding and Aunt May was stroking his hair.  
Her perfume smelt nice and she was wearing her old leather jacket with the poppers that Peter loved to play with when he was little.

  
"Hi, honey."

  
Peter stretched and moaned. "Hey. Time's'it?" 

  
"It's almost 2. Tony said you really needed the sleep, sweetie. He said you haven't been feeling so hot this week."

  
Peter considered this. Tony had noticed, then. He guessed there was no point lying. "Yeah. Long week."

  
"Yeah?"

  
"Yeah."

  
"Well, sweetie, we've packed up your stuff, but you don't have to come back today if you don't want." May looked sort of sad when she said that, and Peter felt bad. She'd been travelling to see him almost every day, waking up to an empty apartment each morning.

  
"No, it's okay. I'm sure Tony's sick of me, anyway." He half-joked.

  
"Don't speak for me, kid." A voice piped up from behind him, across the room.

  
Clean clothes and a towel had been left on his bed for him. He took a quick shower, trying to repress the spoilt-brat emotion of thinking about the absence of a power shower at the apartment.

  
He felt dizzy as he towelled off but the feeling died off quickly. He went out to hug Tony goodbye, and was surprised to feel his eyes pricking with tears. Even considering leaving the Tower made his anxiety spike painfully.

  
"See you on Wednesday, right, kiddo? We'll kick about in the lab."

  
Peter nodded. "Thank you, Tony."

  
Tony's voice softened. "Anytime, kiddo. And I mean that." He directed his next to comment to May, "If this little sabbatical has achieved anything, it's that he doesn't call me Mr Stark anymore. Hallelujah!" 

  
Peter actually laughed at that.

  
Jake Keenan was leaving the elevator as Aunt May and Peter entered it, her arm around him. Jake extended his hand and Peter shook it, trying to ignore how there were black spots in his vision. 

  
May offered to take him for waffles, but he declined. 

  
He crawled into his bunk bed and cried himself to sleep the second he got home.

* * *

  
"Dude, where've you been? You were gone for _twenty five minutes!_ " Ned's eyes followed Peter as he dropped into the chair next to MJ.

  
"Sorry, guys, I got caught up reading something. What're we doing?" 

  
"Well, uh, we were hoping you were going to tell _us_ that, Peter..." MJ put her book down and stared at him. "You text us asking to meet you here."

  
He did? Shit.

  
He did.

  
What was it he wanted again?

  
He'd zoned out again in the library. 

  
The past 3 days were quite literally a jumble of ins and outs - like he'd been in and out of consciousness the entire time.

  
"You said something about Decathlon?" Ned offered.

  
"Right! Yeah. Do you guys want to practice tonight after school? May's left money for pizza." _May's working till 8 and I don't want to be alone._

  
Thankfully, they took the bait whether they knew it was bait or not. 

  
"Sure, sounds good."

  
"Cool."

  
"Hey, should we invite Flash?" Ned's eyebrows waggled.

  
"I'd rather eat the pizza off the subway floor."

  
"In psych today we learnt that people hyperbolise the negativity of things they actually like, just so they can fit in. You eat off the floor regularly, MJ?" Peter quipped.

  
"Strong words from someone who eats dust in Mario Kart so frequently yet speaks about his winning streak so often. What do they say about that in psych, Peter?" 

  
Ned whistled and fake bowed to MJ as Peter laughed in astonishment.

  
His stomach _hurt_ with longing for the times when moments of clarity like this were the norm.

  
It hurt more when he wondered if this would ever be normal again - if he'd ever feel normal again.

* * *

  
"You tired, Peter? Wanna work on something a bit easier? You got homework?" Tony's hand was on his shoulder and he was hit with the realisation that he wasn't rewiring the Spidey eyes anymore and was in fact leaning over an Iron Man repulsor. Tony seemed confused as to why he was there.

  
"Uh, yeah, if I could?"

  
Tony seemed reluctant to take his hand off Peter's shoulder, as if he'd crumple the second he moved away, but he did. Peter grabbed his backpack off the sofa in the corner and pulled out his AP math homework. 

  
He stuck his hand further into the bag to find his scientific calculator when he felt something weird brush against him.

  
Pulling it out, it took him a good 10 seconds to figure out what the _hell_ it was doing in his backpack.

  
Then it hit him.

  
_Frankie Masterson's cell phone._

  
Despite having been at the bottom of his bag for god knows how long, apart from the smashed screen and dented battery compartment, the phone was still in good shape.

  
He immediately felt a pang of guilt for basically stealing the kid's phone. He probably thought that senior still had it. 

  
"What's that? This your cell phone? Peter, why didn't you tell me you'd broken it? I could've hooked you up with a Starkphone in no time for free."

  
"It's not mine, it's that kids'." 

  
Tony stared at him blankly, then gestured for more information dumbly. 

  
"Uh, oh, that kid? You know, the one that was getting bullied and I got the black eye for. Frankie. Frankie Masterson? The gay one. I grabbed his phone because I thought I could fix it but I forgot I had it. D'you think that counts as stealing?"

  
"Alright, Motormouth, chill down a sec. I can fix this. Hang on."

  
Tony turned on the repulsor Peter had been absently tinkering with and directed it to the work surface, waiting for it to heat up before placing the phone on it. "This should even out the dent to the battery, since we can't get it out." He offered in explanation. Peter didn't argue: heating up an iPhone seemed completely counterintuitive, but he guessed Tony knew what he was doing.

  
He took the handset away and blew on it for a few seconds, then moved to the couch. 

  
"Grab that box from the second shelf, would you? Let's see if that worked."

  
Peter brought the tub over and Tony rifled in it till he pulled out the right charger. He plugged it in, and the logo flashed to life on the cracked screen. 

  
"Whoa! Thank you!" Peter marvelled, taking the phone in his hands and inspecting it himself.

  
A few seconds later, the phone was pinging with messages. Peter glanced at it and did a double take. He could've sworn he saw _his name_.

  
_**4:35pm** Kieron Fletcher: Gd work on Parker tonight, boss'll be pleased_  
_**4:36pm** Kieron Fletcher: little sap fell for it like a charm_

  
Kieron Fletcher. 

  
The cell clattered to the floor with surprise as a thousand thoughts came rushing back to him and his vision whirled. He stumbled clumsily to sit at the sofa but gave up, instead slipping to the floor beside it.

  
He was breathing too fast, shaking like he did when he got panic attacks but he couldn't quite connect his thoughts to the here and now. Tony was right next to him, and he wanted nothing more than to be hugged, to _explain_ what was wrong, but he couldn't do it.

  
Not when he remembered something.

  
He'd been wrong.

  
Something _was_ wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG GUYS MY BAD MY BAD
> 
> Your comments on here have been AMAZING and supportive i honestly live for getting those cheeky little comment emails!!
> 
> Some notes on triggers for this chapter: Peter gets a long slit on the palm of his hand (not self-inflicted) and then unconsciously cuts his palm, and bombs are also a part of this chapter. Love u all and stay safe!!

* * *

  
“Now _wait_ just a damn minute. So you’re telling me that kids are up to this?” Rhodey paused for what Tony could only imagine was dramatic effect. It was pissing him off. “ _Kids_ shot him in the neck?”

  
“That’s what I’m telling you, Rhodes.” Tony replied, exasperated. 

  
Rhodey shook his head. He swiped a finger up and down the beaten-up iPhone’s screen again, skimming the texts. 

  
He puffed out a bewildered breath of air and handed it back to Tony, who took it, then continued pacing.

  
“And now they’re messing with his mind.”

  
“Like I said. They’re messing with his mind.”

  
“Jeez, Tones…”

  
“They’re all up in his head, Rhodey. Giving him—I don’t know, memory blackouts, or some shit. Whatever they’re doing, seeing this Fletcher kid’s name triggered something in him. I thought the kid was gonna go into _cardiac arrest_ right there on my floor.” He gestured with a flattened hand across the room, where Peter had been hyperventilating a couple hours earlier. 

  
Rhodey looked him in the face, then at where he was pointing, then at the phone in Tony’s hand, his expression concerned. He swallowed, and crossed his arms, leaning back on a desk.

  
Tony came to a stop opposite him and mirrored the pose irritably, waiting for a response.

  
“…is he okay?”

  
“ _No,_ he is not okay. I don’t care how he says he is. He’s a fucking mess. His head’s an amnesiac’s circus, for god’s sake.”

  
“What _does_ he remember though?”

  
Tony glared at the floor. “Nothing of substance. Just that _something’s wrong._ That these two kids are bad news. He’s scared shitless of them.” He spat. “I hate it.”

  
“’Something’s wrong’?” Rhodey repeated as though it were a cryptic clue. “What d’you think that means?”

  
He laughed hysterically, flopping into a chair. “I haven’t the faintest idea, pal.” He said, dragging his hands down his face.

  
“Then what of these kids? You tracked the number? What else is on the phone?” Rhodey held out his hand, nodding at the cellphone.

  
Tony threw it to him with a lazy flick of the wrist before returning to his patented “I’m Exhausted” head-in-hands position. “Help yourself. Nothin’ on there but those 2 texts and a bunch of confirmation messages from the phone company. Kids are savvy about leaving no traces these days. You know, I _knew_ the second they introduced Google Incognito we were doomed. Porn culture.” He smiled wryly.

  
“Social media profiles?”

  
“Deactivated.”

  
“You’ve tried the texter’s number?”

  
“Duh. Disconnected.”

  
“Well, this one’s still got cell service.” Rhodey said thoughtfully, holding it up in the air in an attempt to gain signal bars. “Who’s paying the contract?”

  
“It’s not a contract. Pay-as-you-go SIM. Can pay for credit in cash in stores. No personal details tied to it, just a burner phone.” He sighed.

  
“Wow. They’re really eager to cover their tracks, huh…”

  
“You can say that again.”

  
“So what now? Find them at school?”

  
“On the nose.” He finger gunned at him.

  
“How’re you gonna know who they are? I’m assuming you’re not letting Peter out of your damn _sight,_ let alone back in that school.”

  
He smirked up at him. “Ned.”

  
_“Who?”_

* * *

  
May brought him hot milk in bed and lit a lavender candle on his desk. 

  
After going loco on Tony’s workshop floor, he’d finally admitted to her how little sleep he was getting. 

  
He could see her worried expression - layered over with years of well-practised and comforting Parental Straight-Face - even in the darkness. He felt bad; this whole situation was weird, and scary, and _did he mention weird as hell?_

  
But however scary it was for him, he was Spider-Man – he could handle it. Now that he’d calmed down - gotten out of whatever crazy funk was happening in his head when he saw those texts - he was just more confused than anything.

  
He was desperate to know what was going on, and was more than ready to fight both Aunt May _and_ Tony in the morning for the right to go to school.

  
After the flashback, and the… panic attack… he was left feeling blank and drained. 

  
He still couldn’t remember anything; only a dark, foreboding feeling that attached itself to Kieron Fletcher’s name. 

  
No matter how much he strained to remember, the surface of the memories were unreachable, rippling somewhere in the back of his mind. The only way he could describe the sensation was like they deep under a pitch black lake of water.

  
He’d explained that to Tony, who’d been drilling him on what _the hell_ had happened to him. 

  
When he said it, the man had just frowned deeply. He’d definitely more than freaked the poor guy out tonight.

  
It wasn’t really his fault, though. It made him feel woozy, thinking about all that time he’d been zoned out, and forgotten stuff, but he genuinely could not say why. 

  
He just knew that Fletcher and _Frankie_ had something to do with it.

  
And… he had to admit, part of him actually felt a thrill at the whole situation. It was like being the protagonist in some kind of mystery novel.

  
And he’d fought off Kieron before, right? He was stronger than him, and he had his webs, and his suit, and Tony. 

  
To be honest, the urge to go in all guns blazing and figure this all out like a real superhero seemed _delectable,_ and pretty much outweighed all the fear and upset that he felt about the situation. 

  
So, yeah. Spider-Man could handle it. 

  
May, on the other hand… May had only recently been let in on the whole _’My nephew is Queens’ sworn protector and an undercover superhero’_ thing, and Peter couldn’t help but feel awful for all the shit he’d thrown at her since then. Especially with this whole _Frankie_ situation.

  
Everything came a very distant second to his Aunt May in Peter’s list of priorities.

  
He felt super bad for stressing out Mr Stark, sure, but the guilt _really_ rose in him when the candle flame flickered to reflect the lilac under May’s eyes.

  
“Thanks, May.” He accepted the mug. 

  
Ducking under the top bunk, she patted his legs so he’d move them, and sat down. Then she gave him one of _those_ smiles.

  
Worry, encouragement, warmth, with undertones of _something is wrong with my child and I wish I could take the pain away._ Peter hated that particular undertone.

  
He reflexively grinned back to placate her concern. His exhaustion made it feel weighed down and fake. 

  
It was only 8pm but he was dog tired.

  
“It’s not too hot?” She tipped her head towards it. Taking a sip, he shook his head fervently. 

  
“Nope. S’perfect. Thanks.”

  
“You used to love a mug of hot milk when you were littler.” Peter scoffed at May’s persistent use of _’littler’_. “Half of it and you’d be dead to the world. Ben’d pick you up and you’d be like a ragdoll, head flopping everywhere, and your legs… but you’d never wake up. Could’ve thrown you down the stairs and we wouldn’t’ve gotten a peep outta you.” She laughed to herself, touching his cheek. “Angel child that you were.”

  
Peter nodded. He remembered. “Sometimes I’d pretend to be asleep so he’d carry me to bed.”

  
“We always knew when you were faking, because you wouldn’t be all limbs-akimbo.” She scrunched her face up in affection. “Aw. What happened, huh?”

  
“Am I not still cute?” He pouted exaggeratedly. 

  
“Nope.”

  
“Aw!”

  
“Not cute. You’re _adorable._ N’aw. Like a little puppy.”

  
“Hey, I—!”

  
“Accept my simile graciously like a gentleman, gimme a kiss and get some sleep.” May commanded. She leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and stood. “We’ll talk about all… this… tomorrow.” She gestured around her vaguely. Then she looked him in the eye, crouching slightly to push some hair behind his ear. It flicked back to its original position straight away. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. Whatever’s going on.”

  
Peter exhaled and turned up the corners of his mouth sadly. The way she said it made him trust her, like she’d take control, like she always did, fix it all with a glue-gun, needle and thread. But he knew he had to fix this one himself. He couldn’t ever put May in danger. “Yeah. I know. Love you, May.”

  
“Love you more.”

  
“You really don’t.”

  
“Have respect for the word of your elders. I don’t wanna have to ground you.”

  
Peter chuckled. “Fine. G’night.”

  
“Night, baby. Call if you need me, okay?”

  
Peter watched YouTube videos and chatted to Ned and MJ about nothing much while he finished his drink. 

  
He went onto Facebook, to double check that Frankie’s profile had really gone. It had. He felt disappointed.

  
He sighed to himself. “Cool. Fucked up spidey-sense _and_ big gaping black holes in my memory. Sweet.” 

  
To be fair, he’d gotten used to his sixth sense perpetually freaking out on him at this point, like you do a constant alarm noise, or a headache. 

  
The alarm noise had gotten a little ‘louder’ than the norm tonight after spiking so suddenly this afternoon, but by the time May had come to pick him up, he’d accepted the volume.

  
God, he was tired.

  
He sat up far enough to blow the candle out. The room was plunged into welcomed darkness, and he sighed.

  
Thoughts immediately quietened with the submersion, he slipped off quickly.

* * *

  
May called him the next morning to let him know that she’d stayed true to their plan: crept into Peter’s room and unset his phone alarms so that he’d slept in past school starting.

  
Apparently, Peter wasn’t too happy.

  
“He wants to speak to you.”

  
“Sure. Lemme have it.” He balanced his phone between his ear and his shoulder to crack his knuckles.

  
A _swish_ sound that he took to be the phone travelling through the air was followed by Peter’s snappy tone less than a second later.

  
“Tony, why did you tell her to do that? That’s so uncool! I’m gonna fall behind in my classes! And you _know_ I hate turning up late, it’s embarrassing just for starters! _And_ it’ll go on my punctuality record, which—"

  
“Hi.” Tony interrupted forcefully.

  
Silence greeted him in reply.

  
“You just about done?”

  
“No, but I’m guessing you’re not gonna let me continue.” Peter replied stonily.

  
“Oh, you picked up on that vibe? Ugh. I hate being predictable.”

  
_”Tony.”_

  
“Funny the way you say ‘Tony’ when you’re mad. Remind me to hack you off more often.”

  
“Wh—”

  
“Nuh-uh, not done! _Just for starters,_ ” he mimicked authoritatively, “you don’t need to worry about turning up late, since you’re not going in _at all_ , and for… _seconders_ … I didn’t tell your Aunt to do anything. You’re the first person who should know that woman does nothing but of her own accord.”

  
He could practically see the affronted look on Peter’s face. “It’s not for you to say whether I go into school or not.”

  
“You’re right! It’s not. It’s _Aunt May’s._ ”

  
“I’m old enough to make my own decisions, Tony.”

  
“Kid, you’re saying this to the guy who actively enabled your life-risking vigilantism. I know that. Honestly, I do.”

  
“Then why won’t you guys let me go! I don’t want to be coddled!”

  
He considered that for a second. 

  
_Hey, here’s one for the thesis titles,_ the dark part of his brain mocked.

  
How does one explain Tony Stark’s crippling protective streak for those he loves without being _totally_ TMI, giving away excessive tragic backstory so as to explain his soul-burdening PTSD and deep-rooted fear of loss?

  
Short answer? You can’t. Long answer? You cannot.

  
“Because I said so.”

  
“You _know_ I’m not just going to accept that bullshit answer.”

  
_”Peter!”_

  
“Sorry, May. _Stupid_ answer.”

  
He sighed. The kid had a fair point. 

  
“I can’t let you go back to school when there’s possible danger for you there, Pete. We don’t know what we’re messing with here, not when your brain’s like swiss cheese. I mean that in a kind way.”

  
Peter groaned. “I can handle it – I know who to look out for now. I’ll be more on my toes.”

  
“Do you?”

  
“Yeah. Frankie and that Kieron guy.”

  
“Well, that’s funny, because I asked your buddy to do some recon on them this morning, and it turns out they left the school before fall break.”

  
“They… they left? Like, left the school? They dropped out?”

  
“Yessir. Transferred, _apparently._ ”

  
“Damn.” His voice was hushed. 

  
“Yeah. Not what we expected, right? But it’s okay. Just means we have to take this from a different angle.” He hoped his certainty sounded more authentic to Peter’s ears than it felt on his tongue.

  
“Yeah… wait. Which _buddy?_ ”

  
“Your guy in the chair - I like him. He’s cool. He actually listens to me, _and_ he taught me what ‘oh worm’ means. You ought’ve told him what’s going on, Pete. He’s got your back.”

  
_”You told Ned?”_

  
Tony recoiled a little from Peter’s tone, twitching a corner of his mouth up. “Yeah? Sorry, kid. I didn’t know you hadn’t told him until it was too late. He hasn’t text you?”

  
There were footsteps on the other end of the line. “No, I—May turned my phone off… I just woke up,” He checked his watch. It was 12:35. Kid must’ve really needed his sleep. “ _Forty-six texts._ Wow.”

  
He chuckled. “Yeah. Kid was kinda excited that I knew his name. Almost evaporated when I told him I had a mission for him.”

  
Peter’s tone was warmer, his tone distracted by his phone. “I bet. Gotta love Ned.”

  
“Oh, sure, you gotta. By the way – vis-a-vis your earlier complaint that you’re gonna fall behind – he’s gonna bring your work by after school.”

  
“Oh. Thanks, Mr Stark.” Peter said sheepishly.

  
“’Mr Stark’? Aw, man.” Peter chuckled at that. There was silence for a few moments, Tony using them to contemplate the kid. “Hey. Listen. You alright?”

  
“Yeah, man, I’m fine.”

  
“Sleep did you good.” 

  
“Yeah. A lot, actually.”

  
“You’re feeling better?”

  
“Yeah. Back to normal.”

  
He made a disbelieving face. “That’s good to hear, kiddo.” He lowered his tone. Time to get soppy. “You know I’m doing this because I care about you, right?”

  
Peter sighed. “I know. And it means a lot to me, Tony. It really does. I just want to be allowed to fix this.”

  
“You are. Just not alone, okay?”

  
“Okay. When can I go back to school?”

  
“ _If_ you have the webshooters on you, and you stick with Ned and MJ at all times – that includes the bathroom _and_ the P.E. changing rooms, I don’t care what you say – you can go back once me and Happy have fully background checked it all.”

  
_Once me and Happy have installed secret security systems in the school and I’ve had a meeting with Principal Morita pretending to have been keenly interested in hiring Frankie and Kieron for S.I., only to discover that they’ve moved schools, feign shock and disbelief in their leaving till Morita breaks confidentiality and tells me why and where the hell they’ve supposedly gone._

  
“Okay, so how long?”

  
“Couple days?”

  
“It’s the weekend in a couple days.”

  
“So it is! Perfect! It’ll have to be Monday. You can come over Saturday if you like.”

  
“… yeah. Sure, okay.”

  
“That’s the spirit, Groucho. Okay, kid. Call me about anything you need, okay?”

  
“’kay.”

  
“Did you just k-dot me?”

  
“Did Ned teach you that? It’s so 2012.”

  
“He did, and I’m gonna use it whether you refute it or not. Stop being mean to me. Go do your homework.”

  
Peter laughed. “Seeya, Tony.”

  
“Laters pal.”

  
The line went dead, so he dropped the phone onto the couch beside him. He was lying on his back, still in his sleep clothes. 

  
He hefted himself up with a low keening sound that grew in volume till he was upright, and huffed a short breath. No time like the present, he supposed.

  
“Get Hap on the line, FRIDAY.”

  
“Hey, Boss.”

  
“Hi Happy.” He said round his toothbrush and a gob of toothpaste. “You u’? We go’ stuff t’do.”

  
“Am I… am I _up?_ Tony, it’s almost 1pm.”

  
“I’m aware o’ the time. Are you?”

  
“I started work at 6.”

  
“Coo’. Pick me up in 10. We’re goin’ t’Midtown.”

* * *

  
Ned stayed over on Friday, if only because Peter was going stir crazy in the apartment. 

  
May had expressly forbidden patrolling. 

  
And he didn’t feel like disobeying her on that for once.

  
They were laying on the living room floor, under an impressive pillow fort. Peter’s head was on Ned’s legs, who he passed the DS to for his go at an impossible _Lego Star Wars_ mission. 

  
Now they were in the safety of their fort, they’d finally broached the topic of… everything that had happened since the seizure.

  
Ned was so understanding, it made Peter feel safe and a little less anxious. 

  
He listened intently to Peter’s side of things, never interrupting until he paused, and only then asking soft-toned questions.

  
Peter left nothing out. Not the creepy spacing-out stuff, or the panic attack, or even how he’d cried after leaving Tony’s. Ned sat up and pulled him into a fierce hug at that.

  
He was completely and utterly blown away by the fact that Frankie and Kieron were the culprits, or, at least, _working_ for the culprit. “They called whoever this… evil ringleader… is – gotta be gender neutral about this, women can be evil too – they call them _boss?_ Like… like what they call Fat Tony, in the mafia, in _The Simpsons?_ That’s so funny. And lame. What idiots.”

  
Peter chuckled, feeling more in the mood to tease and play around than he had for a while. “Yeah, exactly. Like, _what?”_

  
“Dude, what if you’re being targeted by the mafia? You _have_ to admit, that’s pretty awesome if you are.”

  
“Can you imagine? I don’t think Spider-Man’s had much to do with the mafia, not that I can remember anyway. But it could be cool. They could ice-pick my eye.”

  
_“Sick.”_

  
“Right?” 

  
Ned groaned as he died in the game. “Aaaw! On the final lap as well. It was only me and Sebulba left.”

  
“You’re _kidding._ Lemme try again.”

  
“You’re welcome to it. I’m on the verge of rage-quitting.”

  
Peter smirked. Ned was the least aggressive person on the planet. The day he rage-quit was the day the world stopped turning.

  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it, man. I was just feeling so weird and super anxious at the time. I just really didn’t wanna have to talk about it.”

  
“Don’t feel bad at all, dude. You don’t have to tell me stuff if it’s gonna make you feel worse. Just don’t keep us completely in the dark if me and MJ ask what’s wrong, okay? We’re here for you, you know?”

  
Peter bumped his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks, man.”

  
“What’re friends for, right?”

  
“Wiping the floor with them at Just Dance 3?”

  
“Oh, game on, bitch.”

  
Peter closed the DS with a definitive snap, crawling out of the fort to hook up the Wii and set the oven to heat up for dinner. May would be home soon. 

  
“Hey, you gotta tell me about your secret mission for Tony!”

  
Ned’s face lit up, and Peter made a mental note to ask Tony if he could bring him to the lab sometime.

  
“Oh my _god,_ Peter, it was amazing. I felt like James Bond!”

  
Ned animatedly recounted getting the call whilst on the schoolbus, and nearly rejecting it because he didn’t recognise the number, _because I was so excited when he texted me last time that I forgot to save him as a contact,_ (Peter was about to ask when the hell Tony had text him before, but he decided he didn’t want to know) but some _higher power_ told him to answer, so he did, and it was only _Tony Freakin’ Stark,_ Peter!

  
Peter smiled small, biting his tongue against the fact that he’d spent the last couple weeks in Stark Tower, eating Tony Freakin’ Stark’s food, and falling sleep on Tony Freakin’ Stark’s huge couch after watching a movie on Tony Freakin’ Stark’s enormous flatscreen TV. 

  
That Tony Freakin’ Stark was the man he trusted with everything, who made him feel safe, and cared for, when he _never_ thought he could have that again. 

  
Not after Uncle Ben.

  
His eyes darted to his phone on the sidetable, illuminated by the lamp. He tapped the home button, pleased to find a text from the man himself on there.

  
_**6:16pm** Mr Stark: Hey kid, hope everything’s good. Just checking in. Give me a call when you can :-)_

  
Ned continued talking about his “reconnaissance mission” around Midtown to try and snap photos of Frankie and Kieron, and how he went into the office under the false pretence of being the chess club captain and asking if they were present that day, and how the woman at the desk said they’d _left! And I said, like a proper Shakespearean actor or something, ‘left?! Gone? Oh man, without them, we’re gonna fail the… Chess Triwizard Cup!’ Oh my god, Peter, I can’t believe that was the only thing I could think of, but it worked, she fell for it, and she said…_

  
_**6:54pm** Me: hi tony, im good!!! feeling a lot better .ned’s staying over tonight, do you want me to call still?_

  
He resisted the urge to pause the game right in the middle of Bollywood Rainbow’s Kurio Ko Uddah Le Jana, especially since he was on a roll and storming Ned’s score by a landslide, when he saw his phone light up with a reply.

  
_**6:56pm** Mr Stark: I’m really pleased to hear that Pete. Oh worm, Ned’s there? Tell him I said hi. Don’t worry about calling, have a good night  & I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up for lunch?_  
_**7:00pm** Me: sounds good, thanks tony!!_

  
“Hi boys!”

  
“Hey Mrs Parker!” Ned was going at some Gwen Stefani solo, Peter sitting back and watching, laughing and cheering him on.

  
“Hey, May.” He leaned his head back over the top of the couch to look at her. She met him, pressed a kiss to his forehead and started carding her fingers through his hair. 

  
“You okay, honey?” She murmured. He nodded seriously.

  
“Feel good.”

  
She smiled at him. “Good.” She raised her voice so that Ned could hear her. “I’m guessing that’s got something to do with my other favourite guy being here, huh?”

  
“You might wanna take that back in a second, May.” Ned grinned, pulling the remote wrist strap off triumphantly. “’cause I just beat your high score on _What You Waiting For?_ ”

  
She gasped. “You _monster!_ ”

  
Peter closed his eyes to their banter, letting it envelope him.

* * *

  
_He was in the school library, at the computers. Someone was there, someone he was doing a project with. It wasn’t Ned, which was weird._

  
_Everything was discoloured and blurry, his head_ pounding _like nothing else, and he felt sick. Maybe he should tell them? He didn’t think he could work with this headache, and he really didn’t want to throw up in the school library. The bathrooms were a couple hallways away, he’d never make it._

  
_Anxiety caught in his throat, right by his tonsils._

  
_He opened his mouth to say something,_ hey, I’m sorry, I think I’m gonna have to stop, I’m not feeling so good, _but before he could say it,_ they _were speaking to_ him.

  
_He couldn’t work out what it was they were saying. It was like he was underwater, something clogging his ears and making everything wash over his senses, disorientating him._

  
_Their tone was urgent, but quiet. That much he could make out._

  
_And… kinda… mean? He fumbled, feeling himself flinch at whatever it is they said, their tone growing agitated._

  
_He realised his hand had been in his pocket the entire time, fiddling with something small but thick, and rectangular._

  
_The other kid noticed, too, saying something obviously threatening, because Peter’s anxiety hit the roof. Something cold and spikey touched his arm where his sleeve hitched up._

  
_It was a knife. Pulling his hand out of his pocket in shock, it dug into the skin of his palm sharply and blood immediately began seeping out of the long slit._

  
_He dropped the_ thing _in surprise, the person hissing at him as he bent down to pick it up, blood rushing to his throbbing head, and plugged it into the computer tower under the desk--_

  
The crisp night air through his window hit him like a slap in the face when he sat bolt upright, gasping and coughing and pulling at his shirt to pull it off because he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe,_ because he remembered something.

  
_He remembered something._

  
“Ned,” he wheezed, almost falling out of bed and diving for his backpack. “Ned, please, wake up, please.”

  
He heard Ned moan and roll over on the top bunk. “Huh? Wha-?”

  
“Ned, I--I remembered some—something, I need—oh my, oh my god,” he was hyperventilating, he knew. His vision was full of black spots, so he definitely knew. “I need to find it, it’s, it’s in here.” 

  
Ned woke up quickly then, clambering down the ladder and dropping to his knees beside Peter. “Breathe, Peter, breathe.” He bleated helplessly. “I’ll get May.”

  
“No!” He pulled him back by the hem of his shirt. “Don’t. Need t’find it.”

  
Oh god, don’t let him pass out now. His hands were shaking, hard, making it difficult rummage through the bag.

  
In his frustration, he tipped it up and let everything fall out. 

  
Textbooks and his notepad, gel pens, sticks of gum, receipts and a snapped ruler, a ten dollar note, his calculator, all fell out amongst the other things. He pushed things to the side clumsily, ignoring Ned’s pleas to calm down. 

  
Urgency ran through him, the hairs on his arms standing right on end and his entire body rigid with stress.

  
When he found it, Ned was already dialling for Tony. At this point, he couldn’t care less. He just needed to see what was on this USB stick.

  
He reached up to his desk and yanked his laptop down to rest on his knees. His chest was getting tight now, and his head was spinning dangerously. 

  
He shoved it in the port, waiting for the finder to load it up, having to try again at double clicking the file icon when his trembling hand made him miss it the first time.

  
The document was 16500 pages, making the fan of his laptop go crazy trying to load it all.

  
Blueprints. 

  
Notes.

  
Passcodes.

  
Photographs, step-by-step building and maintenance logs.

  
Tony Stark’s top secret work. His money. His safety. How to build dangerous weapons.

  
 _He’d_ given it to someone. _Someone._

  
_Who?_

  
_Who, for god’s sake, who?!_

  
He brought his hands to his head, bending over his laptop in pure, unfiltered frustration and agony and grabbing fistfuls of his hair, pulling till his headache screamed at him in yield.

  
_It was right there! Why couldn’t he remember?!_

* * *

  
As much as Tony loved Ned, being jerked awake by FRIDAY to be told he was on the line at 4:30am was not really something he welcomed.

  
Then he remembered he was with Peter.

  
He could hear the background pandemonium from the second he accepted the call.

  
And he was in the suit within a minute. 

  
He touched down at the fire escape faster than he’d ever done it before, slipping quietly in through the window and into Peter’s room.

  
He made eye contact with Ned, who was fruitlessly trying to console a silently crying, shaking Peter. A laptop sat on his lap.

  
He immediately registered what was onscreen, his heart sinking with restless fear. But he made no move to react to it, only kneeling down before Peter, shutting and sliding the computer off his legs, and drawing him into a bear hug. 

  
Peter pushed his face into his chest, hard. Tony wrapped himself right around him, forming a cocoon. It seemed Ned had already managed to get his breathing back under control. Small mercies, he supposed. At least he wasn’t unconscious right now.

  
He winked at the shaken-up kid beside him in greeting. Ned was pale. “You okay?” He mouthed at him. He nodded jerkily back, pointing at Peter as if to say, _focus on him, please._

  
“Twice in a week, huh, Junior? If you’re looking for a professional opinion, I’d try to limit severe panic attacks to once a fortnight, at maximum.” He said softly. He began to rub wide circles on Peter’s trembling back. Peter didn’t move from his position, left hand furling and unfurling in the fabric on Tony’s back, the right clutching a wad of tissues that were soaking up now-dried blood. 

  
When Tony eased it out of his grip, he saw where Peter had dug his nails into his hand so hard he’d made them bleed. He didn’t even seem to realise he’d done it.

  
Ned left the room and came back with a glass of water. Tony coaxed Peter away from his chest to drink some. It made him cough and gag after a few sips, so he set it aside and put his arms back around him.

  
“Peter, listen to me.” He said firmly. “This? Don’t worry about it. Way worse things have happened. I can change the passwords. And nobody’s gonna know what the hell my notes mean anyway, unless they’ve got as many PhDs as me and know how to read my own special brand of language where I acronymise every other word, and just completely miss out the ones I _haven’t_ acronymised altogether.”

  
He wasn’t lying, really. The loss of the blueprints was worrying, obviously, because who wanted his complicated, poorly drawn Mark 10 plans unless they wanted to wreak some havoc?

  
Good thing Tony loved a bit of havoc. _Throw it on the grill. I’ll have it wreaked._

  
What he was most worried about was how Peter had no idea about them until now. 

  
Whatever was triggering these flashbacks, or feelings, or whatever the hell they were, it was unhealthy, and it was scary. 

  
Peter was 16. He didn’t need this at all.

  
“Please don’t leave tonight.” He whispered into his sternum.

  
“Not goin’ anywhere. I’m right here.” 

  
Ned looked comforted by that too. He looked at his friend sadly, fear in his eyes. “Should we wake May?”

  
“No.” Peter murmured. “Let her sleep.”

  
Tony weighed it up in his mind. 

  
May deserved to know, but if it was going to stress Peter out to wake her and have her fuss over him, it probably was worth leaving telling her till the morning.

  
“Okay, Peter. We won’t wake her.”

  
Peter swallowed. “I’m scared.”

  
“I know, bud. You’re allowed to be. This is scary. But you can be sure we’re gonna sort it out, okay? When have I ever not come out on top, hey?”

  
He was relieved when neither Peter nor Ned said, _‘When you fought Captain America.’_

  
Because that would’ve sucked.

* * *

  
He ended up staying cramped in Peter’s bed while the kid stubbornly lay awake, with his head on his chest, till May woke at 7am for work.

  
It was a sad sight to him that she didn’t seem all that shocked to find him there. “I felt something was wrong.” Her eyes looked dark with pain. She whispered for the sake of Ned. “Hi, baby.” 

  
Peter exhaled shakily. “Hi.”

  
She looked at Tony for some explanation, who mimed checking his phone. He’d text her the situation about an hour ago. She nodded in thanks, staying with Peter for a few minutes before telling Tony he could leave now, if he wanted. She could stay off work.

  
“No, it’s alright.” He replied, feeling Peter tense up at May’s suggestion. “I don’t have any plans today.”

  
She nodded. “Is that okay, Peter?” Peter nodded quickly. “Okay. It doesn’t look all that comfortable for you both there. I’ll get ready, then you can move to my bed.”

  
Tony smiled his thanks. They stayed there whilst May showered and dressed, hearing the hair dryer and the toaster and the radio news. It was comforting, Tony thought. 

  
When she appeared back at the doorway, she was made up, and smelt of subtle perfume. Tony went to stand, prompting Peter to get up too. 

  
The bed creaked at the loss of weight, and Ned shifted in his sleep. Peter looked up at him and smiled slightly. Then he moved to May and folded into her arms. “I’m okay.” He said. 

  
“I know you are.” She replied, leading him to her room. 

  
Tony, still in his sleep sweats and t-shirt himself, sank into the double bed with a sigh. Peter said goodbye to his Aunt, then joined him. 

  
With a final shared look with Tony, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  
Peter turned his head into Tony a little when the front door slammed shut.

  
“You need anything, Pete?”

  
Peter shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  
“You look like you could do with some sleep, if I’m honest.”

  
Peter disregarded him completely, shutting his eyes in concentration. “There’s something there.” 

  
His face morphed in confusion. “In your head?”

  
“Yeah. It’s right there. I just can’t get at it. It’s like I can’t reach it, even though it’s right in front of me.”

  
This was what Tony had been waiting for him to get at. “It’s okay. It’ll come.”

  
“It’s important. I feel like I need to know it _now.”_ Peter insisted.

  
“Don’t force yourself. This hypnosis thing they’ve done to you is clearly designed to hurt you if you try too hard to remember it. We know that already, don’t we?”

  
“I guess.”

  
“We’ll just keep taking things as they come, don’t stress it.” He soothed.

  
Peter’s face crumpled up. “I don’t think I can keep being surprised by things, Tony.” 

  
Tony’s stomach knotted. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

  
“S’okay.”

  
“You know it’s not.”

  
“Don’t argue with me.”

  
Tony scoffed a laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. “Ever so sorry, Sir.”

  
Peter smiled.

  
“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you if you’re having a nightmare.” He pre-empted, guessing that that’s how the 4am revelation had come to him. 

  
Peter agreed, settling down. It took him a while to drift off, and by the time he had, Tony was on his way too.

  
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But he was tired. He was an insomniac in a comfortable bed. So he did.

  
It was a couple hours later at 9am when he woke to a note from Ned, stuck to the dresser at the end of the bed saying his Mom had come to pick him up and that he’d Facetime Peter later to make sure he was okay, so _Peter, you’d better pick up._

  
He also woke to more missed calls than his phone could display in the number bubble. He cursed – he’d put it on silent in Peter’s room and forgotten to take it off. 

  
The last person who called him was Rhodey. He started there.

  
He hadn’t expected him to pick up before the ringing had even begun, having to extricate himself from Peter quickly and leave the room before replying. “Sorry. Hit me again. What did you say?”

  
_”Tony. You’ve gotta get here _right now._ Someone’s planted bombs in the homeless shelter.”_

  
“You’ve got to be fucking _kidding me!_ ”

  
“You think I’d joke about this? I’m stood outside on the sidewalk. Bomb control are in there right now. They’re taking their time, Tony, these ones are smaller impact but really hard to dismantle.”

  
Tony started. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach; a sneaking suspicion that his trademark should be on those bombs. 

  
“I’m with Peter. I can’t leave him here alone. He’s asleep.”

  
“Then I’ll call you when they’re done. You can bring him right here. Penthouse is clear. It’s been checked right through.”

  
“Got it. Stay safe, Rhodes.” 

  
“You too, Tones.”

  
Peter was awake when he got back in there, presumably listening in on the call with his enhanced hearing.

  
Judging by his expression, that seemed to be a pretty accurate assumption.

  
“Bombs?”

  
He sighed. “Yeah. Someone’s planted bombs in your shelter, kiddo.”

  
“Wow. That’s… that’s low.”

  
“No kidding, huh?” 

  
Peter’s eyes trailed the length of the room in deep, pensive thought. He almost said something, then didn’t.

  
Tony sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “What is it?”

  
“I… something’s… something’s not right.”

  
“Here? Now?”

  
“Yes. Yes.” Desperation filled his face. “Tony, we need to get out. We—”

  
That’s when the bomb in Peter’s room went off. 

  
Tony’s penultimate thought of consciousness was, _they thought we’d be in Peter’s room._ , followed by the primal instinct to _protect his kid._

  
His body flung over Peter’s, the impact hit them through the wall hard and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now so please do come and throw abuse at me for this  
> It's under the same username (caraminha) xx


	5. Chapter 5

  
Once, just _once,_ Tony wished that he could come to in a hospital bed. Safe, and fixed up, and _completely_ unaware of the madness that put him in there.

  
That was why it was such a damn shame he was in _such_ peak physical health - if he did say so himself.

  
It always meant he came round _right_ in the midst of the action, acutely aware of whatever the fuck it was that’d knocked him on his unconscious ass in the first place.

  
In this case, it was one Peter Parker, and a deep, searing gash on his own leg that he found himself acutely aware of.

  
Specifically, he woke to the kid hovering over him, one of May’s belts around his thigh and a fierce pressure on his leg wound, blood stoppered with a wadded-up blanket and both of Peter’s pale-white hands. 

  
There was a lot of blood. It was all over Peter’s arms, and clothes, the pillows he’d used to elevate his leg, and the floor around them that looked as though it had been hastily cleared to give Peter room to work.

  
Debris and destruction surrounded them. Dust rose and water dripped from an exposed pipe in the cracked ceiling above them. The wall that previously had separated May and Peter’s rooms had been completely obliterated, wall padding and wires sticking out – he couldn’t lift his head high enough to see through to the damage in Peter’s room, finding that he didn’t even want to. 

  
He grasped and ungrasped his hands into fists several times, forcing himself to calm. To distract himself he did a quick inventory of his other injuries. 

  
His back hurt, and he was most definitely concussed – a bit bashed up, a bit battered and bruised - but otherwise, he was okay. 

  
Sheltering the kid from the blast and dropping down next to the bed had been the right call. Not even the pain resonating throughout his entire body, throbbing outwards from his shin and head, could make him regret protecting Peter over himself.

  
He craned his neck and squinted the blurriness from his eyes to focus on said kid up-close. 

  
He seemed fine, physically. Good. That was good.

  
There was a small, shallow cut on his forehead, as well as a few on his arms and ankles, but that seemed to be it. Yes, good. He calmed somewhat at that.

  
Finally back with it enough to form coherent words, he tried out his voice, fighting back the thick quality to it as bile settled at the back of his throat.

  
“Jesus Christ. We need to get outta here ASAP. Peter, you good?”

  
Peter didn’t react, only continuing to press down on his leg with an intensity that made him want to yelp out - if not for his self-control, and the pride that Peter was clever, level-headed, and doing the right thing. 

  
“Pete?” Nothing.

  
Weird. Kid with super hearing not hearing the guy right by him? Maybe he was more brain-damaged than he thought. He _did_ speak out loud, right?

  
Head spinning, he grappled for Peter’s arm, squeezing it twice before groaning in pain and dropping the limb back down like it was a dead weight. 

  
Peter startled at the contact, jumping backwards a little and relenting his hold on the makeshift bandaging. Realising, he quickly moved his hands back, pushing down hard. Tony growled deep in his throat, eyes widening then shutting. 

  
“Tony, don’t sleep. You okay?” He opened his eyes obligingly, giving Peter a strange look. He was speaking very loudly. 

  
Peter answered his question before he could even ask it. He shrugged a shoulder towards his ear, leaning his head down so the two made contact.

  
“Was really loud. My ears are ringing and I can’t hear. You okay?” Tony gave him a grim smile that he hoped came across as encouraging. “Okay. Call the ambulance.” He extended his knee and kicked Tony’s phone across the floor to knock against his limp hand. Tony didn’t move, concern on his face. “I’m _fine._ ” He said sternly.

  
Tony nodded slowly. Fumbling to grab the phone, he tapped Peter with it, who looked up immediately. He pointed at his leg, then at Peter, the kid following his movements with anxious concentration, then gave him a thumbs up and a smile. “Good job.” He mouthed exaggeratedly.

  
Peter smiled. Good. Tony gestured about the room then, hoping to put across his worry for its structural integrity, then pointed at the door intently. Peter nodded in understanding. 

  
He called Rhodey, having a brief, clipped conversation to let him know what was happening and so the man could handle it all. God bless James Rhodes.

  
And to get him an ambulance to the Tower. _Not_ to a public hospital.

  
When he’d bought back a floor of the Tower to get the medbay put in after Peter’s seizure, he’d imagined it to be for resetting a certain stupid Spiderkid’s bones after an equally stupid arachnid stunt, not because some jackass had tried to blow his favourite leg off.

  
Speaking of his leg, he could see Peter in his peripheries lean back for something. Once he felt the second belt tighten round to secure a bandage, he sat up. His head swam, but he could just about see that Peter had replaced the now blood-soaked blanket with one of May’s sweaters. He grimaced. 

  
“I hope that’s not cashmere,” he mumbled to himself jokingly, “I already owe the woman a new apartment.”

  
Peter cocked his head at him questioningly. Tony shook his head. “Go?” He mouthed.

  
“Yeah. Can you walk?”

  
He thanked the gods for adrenaline. Seven flights of stairs didn’t sound all that appealing without it.

  
They met a pair of Peter’s neighbours, standing wide-eyed in their dressing gowns and hair everywhere, knocking on the front door. Tony thanked them breathlessly and sent them off to check on the people above and below.

  
Peter had his head hooked under his arm on his bad side, basically allowing himself to be a human crutch almost all the way down before the EMTs met them. 

  
“Shouldn’t have done that.” He half-shouted. Tony took the volume to be equivalent of Regular Peter’s murmur. “I can heal faster.” 

  
Tony pinched his neck. 

  
“Ow!” He shot him an offended glance. Tony used the eye contact to send him an equally heated slow shake of the head. Peter rolled his eyes.

  
Each step was pretty much agony all over him, but he reminded himself he’d been through much worse, and that Peter was counting on him, and that he needed to keep awake, and that the longer they were in public, the more the possibility of danger hung over him, and, more importantly, hung over his kid. 

  
Peter spoke to him the entire time, reassuring him that he was fine, he wasn’t hurt, that he wasn’t heavy, that his hearing had gone before, it’d be back soon. 

  
He let the obnoxiously loud words become a mantra for him, stopping the delirium from taking him. His leg didn’t even hurt that much. 

  
Just a couple little transfusions and he’d be fine.

  
The blood loss made him drop out of it once they were in the ambulance. The paramedic was kind, he vaguely thought to himself, because she let Peter sit and clasp his hands around his even though he was in the way and she had to keep stepping over their interlinked arms. 

  
The first couple times he slipped under, Peter squeezed his hand and snapped at him, and he jolted back awake. 

  
His hands enveloped around Tony’s, he stroked his thumb back and forth across his knuckles. He noticed how cold and clammy Peter’s skin was. Hm. Weird.

  
He was gonna comment on it, but he passed out for good this time.

* * *

  
His second time waking was more to his taste: doped up to eyeballs on morphine and Pepper by his side. 

  
He tried to sit up, but she placed a flat hand against his chest, right where the arc reactor used to be. “Stay. Your leg’s fragile right now.”

  
He checked it out as he eased himself back down. “Ah yes. The ol’ leg-a-rooney. Surgery?” He flopped his head towards her on the pillow. She smiled softly at his childishness and cupped his cheek. He kissed her palm.

  
“Thankfully not. Just a real intense stitch job. Went without a hitch, so _unfortunately_ , you’ll be fine.” She said on an exhale. “I’m assuming you’re going to decline the crutch.” The statement was paired with a wearied, mildly annoyed expression.

  
“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t speak for me. I like to maintain an air of mystery. And handsomeness.”

  
“So you’ll take it.”

  
He chuckled. “ _Fuck_ no.”

  
“Tony…”

  
“Thank you for your support on the subject, mon amour.” Pepper scoffed back at him. He found the remote control for the bed and elevated his head so that he was in a sitting position – he had a good feeling that when these painkillers wore off, he’d have one helluva headache. “So. Can we talk about what the hell happened back there, or are you going to try and bench me from the subject till I’m out of this bed? Ooh. Scratch that for now, here’s an even better one: when _can_ I get out of this bed? Here’s my ideal answer, on the house, because you’re my favourite customer: now. That’d be optimal.”

  
“You’re damn right you’re benched. We’re on full lockdown, and I’ve got nothing new to tell you, anyway; Rhodey’s working on it, but we have no idea where the bombs came from.” _Apart from the fact that Peter supplied the recipe that cooked them right up _straight_ into our enemy’s hands without even being conscious of it_ went unsaid, but they both knew it.

  
Tony slumped in frustration. He’d sort of hoped that he’d wake up and Rhodey would’ve found and apprehended the bad guy. 

  
“And you can leave when they _say_ you can leave. You’ve been asleep for 36 hours.” Pepper waited to gauge his reaction, sighing when he looked shocked, eyes darting round the room for a clock. “It’s 11pm.” 

  
“ _Freaky,_ ” is the response he decided on, too weary to comment any further. “Pep, where’s Peter? He alright?” 

  
She swallowed, looking uncomfortable. _That’s the kind of face she makes when she’s about to lie to me. Or withhold the entire truth. Whatever it was, it was her Dishonest Face._

  
“Pepper.”

  
“We… sent him to sleep. He didn’t leave your side, Tony. It was worrying, to say the least.”

  
His stomach twisted. Poor Peter. He was cracking up as it was, and that was _before_ someone had made a second attempt against his life. 

  
God, he needed to see him. “Who’s we?”

  
“May.”

  
“Right. Guess she’s kinda homeless right now.”

  
“I’ve had the room opposite Peter’s made up for her.”

  
“Good. She mad at me?”

  
“What—Tony, why the hell would she be mad at you?”

  
He shrugged, biting his bottom lip. “Dunno. Because it’s my fault?”

  
“I won’t entertain that kind of talk, and you know I won’t.”

  
“Alright, alright, fair. Everyone else in the building okay?”

  
“Yes, they’re all fine. It was a fairly localised impact.” _I know which exact one it was. Unveiled in ’98, for minor conflicts._ He shivered in disgust at his past self’s volition.

  
He nodded in reply, going to touch the bandage, his hand being batted away. “Localised to my damn leg.” He grumbled, pouting dramatically.

  
Pepper smiled. “Ever the martyr, you stupid man.” She said quietly.

  
“You’d rather I let the kid get it?”

  
She leaned in to kiss him tenderly on the lips. “Of course not. I love how you love him.”

  
“Then you can’t have it both ways, Pep.”

  
“You really don’t know me at all, do you? I always get what I want.” She pulled away, standing. He let his hand drop from her arm reluctantly. “I’m getting the doctor.”

  
The second he was alone, his mind wandered to Peter, and how much he needed to see the kid right now. “FRIDAY, is Peter asleep?”

  
“No, Boss. He’s been awake since you both got here – he’s in bed, but he’s not asleep.”

  
He sighed. He’d expected as much.

  
Couldn’t that kid make things easy, just for _once?_

* * *

  
A doctor came in and performed some neurological and other tests on him before deeming him fit enough to leave - straight to his bed, though, and only as long as he up with his analgesia. He practically bolted for the door, polite patience officially run thin.

  
He didn’t take the crutch.

  
Instead, he took the elevator straight to Peter’s floor, limping and knocking once on the door and waiting for a response. He didn’t get one. _Asleep my ass._

  
“Pete, I know you’re not sleeping. C’mon, let me in. My leg hurts.” He whined that last bit petulantly and grinned. If that didn’t get the kid’s attention, he didn’t know what would.

  
Sure enough, seconds later, the door was swung wide open and he was met with an armful of Peter. It was obvious the kid was being mindful of his injuries, arms gentle round his middle. “Hey, kiddo.” He whispered, resting his chin on his head.

  
“Your leg… come and sit down.” He was led to the bed. Peter hovered in front of him, shifting from foot to foot. Though his cuts and bruises were long-since healed, he was a picture of hit-the-wall tiredness, where you just get all buzzed, and an empty kind of hyper. “Is it okay? It—does it hurt? I didn’t think you’d be allowed out so soon.”

  
“Well, you know me, always causing trouble. They only discharged me because I’m so annoying.” Peter half-laughed, playing with his sleeves in front of him.

  
“Nah. I’m good as new, thanks to you.” Peter cringed. “Really! Thank you. You were quick-thinking, and smart, and I’m really proud of you. I owe you one, junior.” He smiled genuinely. 

  
Not waiting for a response, he swung his legs over the bed, shifting up so there was room beside him and propping up a pillow to lean against. He patted the space beside him in invitation. “Come on.”

  
Peter followed suit immediately. He was in fresh pyjamas – a thick Mathletics sweatshirt and slipper socks, some expensive black sweats with a white stripe down the side tucked into them. He remembered buying them after finally convincing Peter to let him take him clothes shopping. That’d been a fun day.

  
“So. Your hearing’s okay?”

  
“What’d you say?”

  
“Ha, ha. You’re killin’ me here, kid.”

  
Peter huffed in amusement. “Yeah. It’s fine, it’s happened before. The—the blast was just a little too much, for my hearing? S’super loud.”

  
He winced in sympathy. It was loud enough _without_ Peter’s weird bat-like hearing. “I bet. You’re not… hurt anywhere?”

  
“Told you I was fine, didn’t I?” 

  
“Yeah, well. You lie a lot.”

  
“Name _one_ time I have lied.”

  
“You _literally_ lied to me the first time we met. Remember that? Uh huh? That cute… cute little exchange in your bedroom? You tried to tell me you weren’t Spider-Man. _That_ was funny. You’re a godawful liar, you’re as transparent as a window. Didn’t you—what did you do? Try to blame it on YouTube editing?” He scoffed incredulously.

  
Peter chuckled back. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

  
“Fan- _tastic._ Iconic.” He said, replicating the second word in the same way Peter seemed to have been doing a lot recently. Oh man, he’d never get bored of teenage linguistics.

  
They sat in silence. The events of the past few days were at the tip of their tongues – in fact, Tony was surprised neither of them had brought it up, or that he hadn’t felt the compulsion to pester Pepper for more information. 

  
This was huge, _huge._ It was obvious that in the quiet, they were both replaying the events in their minds, the terrifying implications of it all nipping at their heels. _Dis_ quiet.

  
And yet… 

  
Sitting here in Peter’s darkened room, piles of comforters pooled around them and his tablet paused on an episode of _Brooklyn Nine Nine_ by their feet, he just… _didn’t_ feel like talking about it with the kid. Especially if Peter wasn’t going to bring it up first.

  
He’d had these cool lights put in, under the rim of the bed and the TV cabinet, that Peter could control. They glowed all different colours, and right now they were set to a slow rhythmic cycle, shifting through the rainbow seamlessly and silently. 

  
They were soft enough to sleep with, even with enhanced vision, and were good for helping you calm down if you followed them, inhaling and exhaling with each slow transition of colour. Amber, neon green, lime, turquoise, aqua, dark blue, indigo, purple, violet, sugar pink, hot pink, red, amber, neon green…

  
Just looking at them were sending him off, but when he turned his head sleepily to look at Peter, he saw that he was sat up straight like a rod, staring at the colours but clearly not taking them in. 

  
He tapped his thigh with his fingertips then withdrew his hand to clasp in his lap. “Hey. You tired?”

  
“Not really.”

  
“Why haven’t you slept yet?”

  
Peter gave him a _look._ “Would you have slept yet if you hadn’t had a concussion?” His eyes strayed to his forehead, then the crown of his hair, scanning. 

  
“… touché. Fair play.” 

  
It went quiet again. 

  
He checked his phone to make sure it was on vibrate if Rhodey had any news (he’d text already to see, but he got told the same thing that he had been by Pepper, he was handling it all, that there was nothing yet, not to worry, to rest up) and set it aside. He nudged the tablet with his toe. “We can watch?”

  
Peter looked like he wanted to, but shrugged. 

  
“What’s the matter?”

  
“I don’t wanna sleep. And you’re good at making me sleep, I know you’re playing me.”

  
“I _am_ good at that.” He said smugly. “Why don’t you wanna sleep, Pete?”

  
“It’s just… too much right now. Please, don’t make me. And you need to sleep, your doctor said so. You hit your head, and your leg… you can’t stay up with me…”

  
“I’m a big boy, you know. I can do as I please.”

  
“You should probably do what your doctor tells you, Tony.” He replied seriously.

  
He considered. “Okay, well. How ‘bout _I_ sleep, here, and you watch this? Feels like a—sort of a win-win situation.”

  
He wasn’t really that tired at all, but he could sleep for Peter. 

  
The kid relented, reaching for the tablet and pulling the charger out so he could bring it closer to them. “Okay. I’m re-watching season 3 - I didn’t want to watch the newest episode without you. It’s the Halloween episode. They’re your favourite, right?”

  
Tony smiled, nodding. He loved this kid. “Stick it on, Underoos.”

  
He slipped under the blankets and ignored the hilarity of a teenager fussing over him, thoughtfully rearranging them so that they covered him fully. 

  
He shut his eyes and tuned out Peralta and Holt’s witty back and forthing, anxiously and unwillingly running through everything that’d happened in his mind.

  
The bombs… the fact that someone managed to _plant_ them, _unnoticed_? Peter’s dreams and flashbacks. Peter was having horrible nightmares, revelatory dreams of things that he was convinced had happened. Someone was getting into his brain. _How?!_

  
Were they drugging him? Peter should take a blood test. No, they already did that. Twice. 

  
Those kids. The flashdrive, the phone. _”boss’ll be pleased”._ Boss? The fact that they _knew he was Spider-Man,_ the paper plane. The dart. The seizure. God, the seizure. He shifted his leg so that it touched Peter’s through the covers.

  
There was a connection here. There was.

  
Was there?

  
No. No? _No._ No?

  
It just felt like a crazy, wild jumble of awful thing after awful thing, someone out to get his innocent kid. And now his Aunt.

  
His fucking apartment was blown up, for god’s sake! He definitely hadn’t come to terms with that yet. He shoved it away. That was for later. 

  
But… wasn’t Peter upset? About his stuff? His room? Wasn’t May?

  
God, the only place that was safe anymore was the Tower. 

  
Only inside, though.

  
And not if you went a few floors down.

  
Basically, only the penthouse was safe. 

  
Was Peter gonna have to stop going to school?

  
The enormity of the threat made his hands tingle with adrenaline. He wanted to get out there and just strangle someone. 

  
“You think _so_ loud.”

  
He cracked one eye open. The room was now cast with a constant rich red from the lights, and it bathed Peter’s face. He was looking down at him, still sat up straight against the headboard. He had one leg tucked under him as though he wanted to go cross-legged, but the other one that touched Tony’s was out straight, almost as if he didn’t want to give up the contact.

  
“You’re also very bad at faking sleep.” He smirked tiredly.

  
“You’ll have to give me a couple pointers.”

  
“Uh, touché, I guess.” Peter paused the episode. He stared at the still screen. Tony exhaled.

  
“I’m sorry, kiddo.”

  
His head snapped back to him, expression dark. “Why?” He asked, with what Tony detected as a hint of venom.

  
“Well, I mean, your apartment’s kind of a Blitz re-enactment scene right now.”

  
“Yeah… it’s shit. But it’s _obviously_ not your fault.”

  
“I dunno, kid. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you move back. I always knew that it was gonna be safer here.”

  
“You did what you thought was best. Can you - just–“ his voice went higher pitched in exasperation, “stop doing that? Like, it’s really annoying when you do the self-blame thing. I can see why the doctors kicked you out now.” _Hypocrite, but whatevs, kid._

  
He laughed, acquiescing to shutting up. He swung a hand up to land on Peter’s leg. “Alright. If you don’t wanna talk about it, we won’t talk about it. _If_ you try and sleep.”

  
“Uhh, nah, nah, nah. We never agreed to that. We made a deal. Win-win scenario.” 

  
“Did we? I’ve got a concussion, I can’t remember.” He motioned to his head then made a soft _poof_ sound.

  
“Ah, no, no! Don’t pull that with me!” They both laughed.

  
“Please, Pete. You’re exhausted, I know you are.”

  
“I am. But I’m not _tired._ ”

  
“Whoa, no need to get all poetical on me, Keats. It’s the dreams you’re afraid of, right?”

  
Peter nodded shyly.

  
“Then I’ll stay here, or you could go in with May. We can wake you if you’re having one of those flashback nightmares again.”

  
“I don’t wanna stress May out any more than she already is. When she gets stressed, I get stressed, and then it’s like—” 

  
“Okay, then I’m here.” He supplied softly.

  
“You are.” Peter hunched his shoulders, smiling small. “I know you are.”

  
Tony smiled back. “C’mon, Pete.” He flipped over the comforter.

  
Peter sighed and got in. Tony moved up to give him space. “By the way, next time you’re sitting vigil at my bedside for 36 hours, can you at least do something productive? Like a watercolour painting of my face?”

  
“People have already done that online.”

  
“ _What?_ ”

  
“Goodnight, Tony.”

  
“I swear to god, Parker.”

  
Peter smiled into his pillow, rubbing against it and pulling his sleeves over his hands. He used one to cushion his cheek, and the other went under the pillow. He stretched out like a cat, toes coming to touch Tony’s unhurt shin.

  
His face looked a little uneasy, but Tony watched him, bathed in red, for a good long while for it to smooth out in sleep. 

  
It took longer than expected for someone who’d not slept in more than almost two days altogether, but less than usual for someone with the weight of the world on their shoulders. He pushed air out of his nose in relief. Good enough. 

  
He leaned over to Peter’s waterbottle, downing some of the juice inside with the painkillers he’d brought with him. He checked his phone one last time, then lay down.

  
_I’m sleeping because I want to, not because everyone’s telling me to._

* * *

  
Peter was still asleep when he woke. He told FRIDAY to let him know if he was having a nightmare, or about to wake, and stumbled back to his room for a one-legged shower. 

  
It was 7am when he found Rhodey in the office. He was standing with his back to him, staring out the window. Coffee mugs were everywhere and 3 screens with various security tapes were all paused. 

  
“Save some caffeine for the rest of the continent, eh, Rhodes?” Tony said, picking up and downing the lukewarm dregs of the one closest to the keyboard. Rhodey turned, surprised. 

  
“God! Save me from a _heart attack_ by knocking next time, eh, Tones?” 

  
Tony wiggled the mug at him. “Another?”

  
“Please.” Rhodey dropped into the desk chair, resting his face in his left hand. “We need to talk.”

  
Tony paused at the pot just for a second before continuing. “We do?” He replied casually. 

  
“Yeah. But… I feel like you already know more about this than I’m giving you credit for.”

  
Tony turned, offence and blatant confusion colouring his features. “What are you saying here?”

  
Rhodey’s forehead met his palm again to hide his face, and he held out his arm for the coffee. Tony crossed the room quickly and shoved it into his hand. 

  
“Thanks.”

  
“Rhodes, you better tell me what the hell you mean before I spontaneously combust.”

  
Rhodey sighed into his mug. “Come here.” Tony moved to his side. “So. I’ve been reviewing the footage from the apartment and the shelter. And… I just—I couldn’t see anything abnormal at all. I watched it, maybe, 4 or 5 times. Hours of it. Literally nothing.”

  
“Well yeah, otherwise you would’ve said by now.” Tony looked at him suspiciously. “ _FRIDAY_ would’ve said before now. Nobody suspicious has been in or out, or we’d have _known._ There are security checks on everyone that goes into that shelter.”

  
“Yeah. Exactly.” He didn’t elaborate.

  
“… sorry, but you’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

  
“Tony, nobody suspicious has been in or out because it _wasn’t someone we don’t know_ who planted the bombs.”

  
Tony froze. Rhodey was right. Deep down, he’d known since Peter had found that flashdrive.

  
“Tones, it was Peter who planted the bombs.”

* * *

  
Pepper had tried to stop May from going into work, but she was having none of it. Being as politely flippant as was humanly possible, she’d made some tea and toast, a sandwich for lunch, and was gone by 6am. Before Tony got a chance to see her anyways.

  
It was probably for the best. If he didn’t feel up to facing her before he learned the information he was now loaded with, he _certainly_ couldn’t do it now.

  
FRIDAY was currently hacking the Midtown security system, downloading all the camera footage for every day that Peter had been in school since the seizure – about two weeks and a couple schooldays worth – for a tag-team of Rhodey and Tony to comb through. Pepper and Happy got the… happy… job of working backwards through all the footage from before fall break. 

  
They’d know what Frankie and Kieron looked like when they isolated the video from the corridor of Peter breaking up the “fight”, when he’d taken the phone. Tony had a feeling it’d be difficult to watch. 

  
From that, FRIDAY could whittle down the necessary footage through facial recognition, till, hopefully, they had a definitive compilation of the two boys’, and Peter’s, movements throughout the school. 

  
It’d take a few hours to download, and so Rhodey and Pepper had gone to grab a few hours sleep before they began.  
Motives formed of hungry determination had settled over them all, fuelled by a strong and thoroughly collective protectiveness for Peter. 

  
There had been an unspoken verdict between the four of them that they knew Peter was _not_ to blame for this. 

  
Nevertheless, it was going to be a hard pill for the kid to swallow when he found out. The guilt complex would probably stop his heart, if they didn’t know him any better.

  
And so, it fell to Tony to resume his watch over the kid, who had slept into the morning without so much more than a soft humming and a gradual roll-over manoeuvre into Tony’s side. As the terabytes piled into FRIDAY’s archives, he waited for Peter to wake.

  
When he finally did, it was 10:15am, and he woke all at once. 

  
“Tony?”

  
“Yep, s’me. Lucky you. You okay?” 

  
“Yeah. How’s your leg?”

  
He held it aloft so the kid could see that the movement didn’t pain him. “Good as new.” 

  
Peter grinned until the moment Tony put his leg down and flinched. He hissed for good measure, _’Aaah!’_ -ing in pain whilst Peter sat up quickly. “Hey! Tony, be careful, man!”

  
He stopped groaning suddenly and winked. “Gotcha.”

  
Peter’s shot him an unamused glare. Tony laughed. “You are the least funny man I’ve ever known.” He deadpanned.

  
“I know you idolise me for my comedic timing alone, squirt.” He shot back. Peter exhaled in exasperation and lay back down. He yawned. “You still tired?”

  
“Tired of your _games._ ”

  
“Oooh, good one! Seriously though. You need more sleep? You had a good run without the dreams this time, may as well take it while you can.” He pitched hopefully.

  
“Mmm. Maybe.” His eyes were already shut. 

  
Tony felt himself slump with relief. It was cowardly of him to want to delay talking to Peter, but he spared himself the self-reproach with the thought that he was saving Peter the stress and fear for later, too. Not just himself.

  
“You do you, buddy. Sleep’s good. Great. Highly recommend.” He rubbed a couple circles on Peter’s back, moving to leave, ready to tell him he’d just be down the hall.

  
“When am I gonna stop feeling tired?” He was taken aback by the sudden question; voiced faintly, sadness tinging its edges. 

  
“Pete? What d’you mean?” He asked quietly. “Are you not feeling well or something?”

  
“No—well, _yes,_ but not like that. I’m just tired, and… I’m just…”

  
Tony didn’t reply, hand simply maintaining its cyclical motion between his shoulder blades, waiting patiently.

  
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on in my own body, and I haven’t felt like that since the bite. Ever since then I’ve been extra aware of myself, and I’ve lost it all again. I feel like I’m locked out of my own head. I guess I’m just scared.”

  
“That’s alright.” He responded quickly.

  
Peter looked up at him, dead in the eyes. “Spider-Man wouldn’t be scared.”

  
“Spider-Man’s never been up against this. He has _all_ the same back-up as you. He wouldn’t need to be scared, but I’d understand if he was.” Tony replied evenly.

  
Peter nodded in understanding. “I knew you’d say something like that. You’re all smart and deep when you wanna be.” He sniffed a half-laugh.

  
“I think you’ll find I’m always smart.”

  
“Uhh? Debatable.”

  
“Name _one_ time I haven’t been smart.” He mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

  
“Pepper said you peed in the suit at your birthday party.”

  
“ _Oh-_ kay!—nevermind, I don’t like this game.” Tony snapped. Peter, giggling, rolled onto his front. The sheets twisted tightly around his stomach and legs. He stopped laughing and exhaled, long and wearily, into the plump pillow. “Hey. Bud. Look at me.”

  
He did so.

  
Trust lined his every feature.

  
“This is gonna be over soon. We’ve been busy whilst you were snoozing, you know - got a _plan_ and everything.”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Yeah. It’s gonna take time, but nothing else is gonna blow up. You’re just gonna need to sit tight for a while.”

  
“I can’t go to school? What if I wear the suit under my clothes?”

  
“I won’t be the only one peeing in a suit if you do that. Hey!” He held his hands up in surrender to the scowl he was being pinned under. “You said it! Not me!”

  
“Not _exactly_ what I said, but go off, I guess.” Peter mumbled. “So I can’t go to school.”

  
“Not right now. Sorry, kiddo.”

  
“I really can’t miss more, Tony. You were gonna let me go back on Monday, why can’t I go back with the suit and the shooters? It’s not like they’re not gonna blow up my entire school. I could catch them, maybe…”

  
“No, Pete. You don’t know that for sure. I can’t let you.”

  
“But _why?_ Are you forgetting I’m Spider-Man or something?”

  
“ _No,_ I’m not forgetting that, honestly. At all. Ever. But you need to understand that Peter and Spider-Man right now are both at risk. They aren’t two separate identities to these guys.”

  
“What do you mean…? Like, because they know I’m Spider-Man? And at _risk_? What does that even mean?”

  
Tony hesitated. Peter caught onto his caution, and he sat up on his knees. “Tell me.” His eyelids flickered up and down as he took in all of Tony’s face.

  
He sighed. “Peter…”

  
“Give it to me straight, doc.” Peter joked lightly, quietly, his eyes soft. Tony saw himself in the words. 

  
He owed it to him to tell him. Now. “Rhodey checked back on the camera feed from your apartment. To see who planted the bomb.”

  
Peter didn’t speak. His eyes met his.

  
“It… he… oh, my god. Is it always this hard to tell the truth? I wouldn’t know. It was you, Pete. You put one in your closet.”

  
Peter – his expression unreadable - swallowed, head tipping back slowly in an almost-nod. “It was me.”

  
Tony’s features were sad. Tired, as he watched him digest the news. He grabbed Peter’s face in his hands. “We know it wasn’t _you._ ”

  
“But it _was._ ”

  
“No, Peter, it wasn’t.” He said firmly. “They’re in your head.”

  
Peter shuddered a breath. “They wouldn’t have gotten in _your_ head.”

  
“Scarlet Witch got in all the Avenger’s heads. Even Thor’s. Easily.”

  
Peter sighed. “S’not the same thing.”

  
“You’re right. It’s not. It’s different, but it’s still not your fault. You know yourself, and you know you wouldn’t have put those bombs in your own bedroom. Right?”

  
“Well, duh.”

  
“Exactly.”

  
Peter lay back down. The crown of his head brushed Tony’s side. Tony played with the curls, absent-mindedly spiking his hair upwards. “What is it?”

  
“It’s… it’s not just that, Tony.”

  
“Oh yeah? What is it then?”

  
“I think I already knew I’d done it.”

  
His eyes narrowed. He weighed out his response in his mouth, teeth grinding, but Peter cut him to the chase.

  
“When you said it, something just… clicked. And I _knew_. Like I knew for sure. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s… it’s all blurry, you know?”

  
“I know.” Tony reassured, even though he didn’t.

  
Peter turned his head, so that Tony could see his brimming eyes. “Does _that_ change your mind?”

  
Tony wasted no time in giving him one of his most disapproving, dirty looks. “Stop trying to sell yourself as the bad guy. I’m not buying.” 

  
He smoothed back the hair he’d stuck up, grasping the back of Peter’s neck. Peter accepted the contact, but didn’t move into it. 

  
Instead, he was biting the insides of his cheeks and scowling at the mattress. 

  
“This is weird and different, and, yes, it’s something I’ve never dealt with before. But I know what’s what, and I know that someone is hurting you, and they’re in your head, and that we’re going to fix it together. Capiche?” 

  
His phone glowed as Peter deferred a nod. Pepper had messaged him to let him know the download was complete, that they should to make a start soon. 

  
Peter glanced at it, then deflated. “Guess you’ve gotta go.”

  
“Nah. I don’t have to if you don’t want me to. It’s completely up to you. I’m here for _you_.”

  
Peter bristled with warmth, smiling thankfully at him. “Thanks, but this is more important. Can I help? I wanna help.”

  
Tony almost told him _no,_ then he remembered who Peter was. Peter was a do-er. He was headstrong, and heart-strong, and just strong, and he was the last one to accept being sidelined. 

  
“Fair enough, kiddo. But nap if you need to first. You look exhausted.”

  
“I’ll survive. Think I’ve napped enough these past couple weeks to last a lifetime.” Tony snorted, throwing a _’Just you wait till you hit your fifties, kid.’_ back at him whilst Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’m ready.”

  
“Shower _and_ breakfast, _then_ you’re ready, I think you mean.”

  
“Okay, _Aunt May._ ”

  
“Oh no kid, I don’t like you enough to be your Aunt May. Think of me more as… as your begrudging older brother.”

  
“You can’t talk about being in your fifties and then call yourself my older brother in the same breath. It’s youth erasure.”

  
“Uhhh, I resent that wholeheartedly. I’m youthful as hell.” Tony dipped into the drawers and threw some fresh clothes at Peter whilst he grabbed towels from the cabinet. He caught them and headed for the bathroom when Tony touched his arm, holding him back. 

  
“Come here.” He pulled him in for a hug. “I meant what I said. I’m really proud of you. You hear me? You’re brave as hell, smart too. You’re safe here, and this’ll be fixed. I promise.”

  
Peter hugged back hard. “I know. I do trust you.”

  
“Good.” They pulled apart, and he tipped his chin so he was looking Peter in the eyes. He made sure the kid at least _looked_ okay, then swung an arm to the bathroom door in dismissal. “I’m gonna go make breakfast for everyone. Take your time.”

  
“Sure.”

  
As he walked down to the elevator, he lamented on how long this was gonna take. _Sources suggest an absolute fucking lifetime. More at 8._

  
He just hoped there were answers waiting for them at the end of it: that whatever was happening to Peter was happening _in school,_ that it was obvious on camera, and that they could storm over there - guns blazing, of course - and nip this bastard, whoever they were, in the bud. Hard.

  
His stomach flipped as his mind wandered to what Peter had just said. 

  
_I think I already knew I’d done it._

  
_God._ It scared him. 

  
What did it _mean?_

  
Tony telling him triggered memories, so that he remembered it? He was semi-aware of doing it, like he was sleepwalking? 

  
But he expected it. He _expected_ it. 

  
Peter himself said he already knew.

  
The thought occurred to him all of a sudden that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let Peter watch the tapes – that dream alone spooked him enough to give him a horrible panic attack, and he didn’t think his heart could take coaching the kid through another one of those without breaking in two. 

  
But how could he tell Peter that? 

  
He didn’t want to hurt the kid, but either way it seemed he was bound to.

  
He was lost in these kinds of thoughts making the food, so much so that he hardly noticed Pepper walk past and meet Jake Keenan at the elevator. 

  
He nodded to him and shook his hand across the counter, half-wondering to himself what kind of business brought him here. 

  
It must have been important enough for Pepper to have put him on the whitelist of people who could come into the penthouse whilst it was on lockdown. 

  
Around 10 minutes later, he was cracking the eggs into the pan. Jake Keenan came round the corner. 

  
“Oh, Tony! There you are.”

  
He took the pan off the heat, and smiled at him. “What’s up, Jake?”

  
“Pepper sent me to find you. Just a couple things I need signed off – if you’re not too busy?” He eyed the food. 

  
“No problem. FRI, watch the food.”

  
“Sure thing, Boss.”

  
Jake smiled back, holding out his arm as if directing him, letting him walk down the hallway first. 

  
Tony quirked his mouth up, amused. He’d always thought Jake was a little weird. He didn’t need directing, this was _his_ place. 

  
He got to Pepper’s office, wandering in and finding her at the desk. When she saw him, she looked confused. “Hey, I’m just—”

  
She couldn’t finish her sentence before the door behind them slammed shut. Reflexes quick, Tony leapt towards it, trying to jam it, but Jake had already turned the key.

  
The inside lock had been busted. They were trapped.

  
“Jake! What the hell!”

  
“Sorry, Stark! Nothing personal!”

  
“He’s taken my keys!” 

  
_Peter._

  
“FRIDAY, tell Peter to get outta here _now._ ”

  
Heart pouding, he began full bodily barging the door. He could feel his stitches coming apart. He did not care.

  
The door was a reinforced light-washed oak, attuned to Pepper’s taste and style. He wished she preferred a French door right about now.

  
“Where’s Rhodey? FRIDAY?” Pepper ripped off her heels and joined Tony in his efforts. 

  
“Sargent Rhodes is asleep.” 

  
“Well wake him!” 

  
“ _Wake him up right now!_ ”

  
Tony felt faint. He was terrified to ask FRIDAY what was happening. 

  
_Where was his suit?!_ He’d been calling for it for 5 minutes, but the one he was connected to was locked up in the lab. _He didn’t think he’d need it in the penthouse._

  
It finally came busting through the window about 30 seconds later.

  
Pepper stepped back. It wrapped around him and he blasted the door wordlessly, then turned and flew out the window to get to Peter’s room faster.

  
He smashed through the window, but he was too late.

  
There was blood on the floor. 

  
A dart next to the stain.

  
He dived down to the street, flatlining. He told FRIDAY to freeze the elevators. Lock the doors.

  
He was too late. Peter was gone. 

  
_You’re safe here, and this’ll be fixed. I promise._

  
_I know. I do trust you._

  
Releasing his face plate, he vomited acid onto the sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhangers are sexy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love u guys x  
> (sorry for saying cliffhangers are sexy)

  
FRIDAY alerted him to an incoming call from Rhodey whilst he was still barfing up onto the sidewalk. 

  
He spat sourness and waved an apologetic hand at a concerned passerby. “Connect.”

  
“Tony, what’s _happening_? Where are you?”

  
“Sidewalk. Keenan took Peter. They’re gone. They’ve gone.”

  
“ _Keenan_?! They’re _gone_?”

  
“ _Yes_ , Rhodey, _they’re gone_. Want me to spell it out?” He flew off up into the air to try and catch a glimpse of them, but nothing was obvious to him. 

  
New York City was a busy place, surprisingly enough.

  
“Sorry Tones. I did just wake up, you know. Just—it’s okay, don’t panic. Peter can hold his own, and they haven’t been gone long enough to get any good distance between us.”

  
“I don’t know where to start. I’m heat scanning but I can’t see Peter’s higher signature in any cars or on the street, _god! Asshole!_ ”

  
“Boss, your leg isn’t in good shape.”

  
“It’s fine.”

  
“Tony, come back so we can regroup. We need a plan.”

  
“Coming.” 

  
“What direction did they—” Rhodey cut off when he saw Tony desuiting behind him. He lowered his voice to simulate calm. “D’you know what direction they went in?” He was bent over the computers.

  
“No. I was too late. They got away _so_ damn fast.” 

  
He was tingling with adrenaline. A ferocious need to get out and find Peter immediately pulled at his every nerve.

  
If he were a toddler, he’d whine and stamp his feet right now.

  
“FRIDAY? What direction did they go in?”

  
“They exited through Peter’s window.”

  
Tony blinked. He held up a finger as though he wanted silence. “I’m… I’m sorry. They _what_?”

  
“Peter suited up and carried Keenan out of the window. He swung off from the east side, but I can’t see where he went from there.”

  
Rhodey eyed Tony carefully. Tony felt like an untamed lion under his gaze.

  
“Track him. Where is he.”

  
“He removed the tracker last night, Boss.”

  
He slumped onto the couch, leaning in on himself, head cradled. 

  
Jesus, was it normal to _taste_ worry? Or was that the aftertaste of vomit? Something metaphorical could be implied there, he was sure.

  
Soft hands enveloped his.

  
“Tony, your leg.” That was Pepper.

  
“It’s fine.”

  
“Your stitches have broken.” 

  
“I don’t have time for new stitches, Pep.” He replied, quiet and monotone.

  
_Peter went with Keenan._

  
_That’s how they got away so fast._

  
_Fucking Keenan._

  
_Keenan didn’t take him. Peter went of his own accord._

  
_Wait._

  
He sat up straight. Pepper recoiled very slightly at his alarm, but otherwise stayed kneeling before him.

  
Rhodey came to her side with a first aid kit that she took over her shoulder, not breaking her watch of Tony.

  
“Go to his room. Get whatever there is on the floor. Now.” Rhodey nodded and jogged off. 

  
“Tony, what is it?”

  
“He drugged Pete. I went to his room and there was,” he waved a hand at the wood flooring, “ another dart on the floor.”

  
“ _Another one_? But last time, he—he had the seizure…” Pepper saw the upset in his eyes and reached for his face, forcing him to look at her. “He’ll be fine. He’s smart. And besides, if he swung them out of there, he must’ve been conscious at the very least. Not… having a fit.”

  
He shook his head. “But it wasn’t just that, Pep, there was—”

  
“There’s blood on the floor. And… these.” Rhodey said gravely, holding up bloodied pants and a hoodie as he entered. He took the dart out of his pocket then and placed it on the desk. “And this. It hasn’t been used. It’s full.” 

  
Tony motioned for Rhodey to throw it to him. He inspected it for himself, and sure enough, when held to his ear, he could hear liquid slosh around inside it. 

  
“If he’s not drugged, Tony, Keenan’s trying to leave us a message. A threat? A clue? I don’t know. But something for sure.”

  
He exhaled. “I know. FRIDAY,” he sighed, “get up the footage.” He heaved himself up to sit at the desk. Pepper didn’t protest, just followed him. He sat to the side so that she could at least go about her ministrations whilst he stared at the screen distractedly.

  
One of the screens came to life: Peter coming out of his bathroom, steam billowing behind him. Throwing pyjamas into the hamper and towelling his hair dry, hanging it up on the back of the door. Moving to the mirror and taming his curls with product. Tony always preferred when he left it.

  
Pulling open a drawer, pulling out some socks. Sitting on the edge of his bed. Checking his phone, replying to a few texts. Scrolling through a social media feed. Laughing a tired laugh at something.

  
Putting the socks on, only getting one on before – head snapping up to look at the door, calling back to someone. Surprise, awkward smile and a handshake to Keenan.

  
Keenan not relenting his hold on Peter’s hand. 

  
Everything seemed to go in slow motion to Tony’s eyes after this. His chest tightened and he felt like an asthmatic.

  
Peter’s back was to the camera – but Keenan’s mouth and piercing eyes were very visible. His expression seemed almost… sinister to Tony. He was speaking slowly and sternly to Peter, who was frozen in a place, in a much more (now unwarranted) friendly stance than Keenan was.

  
He was only slightly taller than Peter, level enough to look into his eyes. 

  
Still, fear like a parent’s for their small child coursed through him and stung behind his eyes.

  
It was uncomfortable to watch; whatever was being said seemed to be having a real effect on Peter. 

  
Until his head stirred a little, turning to the right like he was trying to break free from a spell. Tony could see him blinking sluggishly, as if drugged. 

  
Immediately impatient, Keenan jerked his hand towards him sharply. Peter jumped back as though burned, and, being much stronger than the man, easily pulled his hand straight out of its hold. 

  
He backed off away from him, Keenan advancing for every step he took – so Peter pushed him away, dodging round him to get to the door and away, out of the room. 

  
Keenan grabbed his arm. Peter yanked it away desperately and made a real break for it. He was pulled back by his hood, being momentarily strangled before dropping to the floor. Peter reacted quickly, kicking Keenan in the knee so that he dropped too. Tony could see him calling out what looked like, _”FRIDAY!_ FRIDAY _!”_

  
“FRIDAY, why didn’t you do something! Alerted us!” Pepper shouted. 

  
“My systems were offline from Keenan arriving at the penthouse to them jumping out the window.”

  
Peter and Keenan were in a real scuffle now, one that Peter was winning. Tony’s heart twisted, knowing that something bad must be coming for Peter to have lost this fight.

  
“The plans and blueprints.” Rhodey supplied. Tony vaguely registered that he was right – Keenan knew how to deactivate FRIDAY now. 

  
A punch landed Keenan square in the nose. Rhodey murmured “That’s it, kid.” under his breath.

  
Tony’s unbearable anxiety and pounding heart were validated when Keenan pulled a large knife up to Peter’s throat.

  
Pepper gasped. Tony choked.

  
Peter stilled.

  
“No! No, no, no, no, no-“

  
There was no blood on the carpet yet. 

  
Pepper grabbed his hand and squeezed hard.

  
Both of them now panting heavily on the floor in an uncomfortable chokehold, Keenan’s eyes took on their menacing quality once again, and he carried on speaking in Peter’s ear.

  
Upon hearing it, Peter began squirming and struggling again, but Keenan cut it off with a fierce slice to his leg. 

  
… right where Tony’s gash was. 

  
It hadn’t been hurting up to now, but it throbbed almightily as he watched Keenan carve into Peter’s shin – the kid shouted out, bucking and twisting in agony. Blood quickly soaked his pants. The knife went in deep.

  
The tension in the room hung oppressively over the three as they watched it.

  
His heart was in his mouth. 

  
His poor, undeserving kid. 

  
He honestly felt like he could cry – and he would have - if only anger wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, and at the tip of his tongue, and at his fingertips that dug into his palms as his fingers curled into tight fists of fury.

  
Keenan hissed into Peter’s ear, making a move to do it again. It forced Peter into submission.

  
Tony could now watch in HQ as his kid’s eyes glazed over into some unrecognisable person’s. Someone that Keenan clearly wanted him to be, and someone who would stand as though his leg didn’t pain him and calmly slip out his suit from under the mattress. 

  
“Damn, man… he… he’s been hypnotising him…” Rhodey said aloud, awestruck. 

  
Pepper shuddered a breathy, “Yeah…” in agreement. Tony couldn’t say anything.

  
It was implicit in Peter’s mechanical movements that he was not himself. Like the real Peter was on standby, sequestered somewhere in a sleeping part of his brain.

  
As he began to strip off, Tony’s eyes travelled to Keenan out of respect for Peter’s privacy. He almost gave a little jump in fright when he actually made eye contact with the man, who was staring directly into the camera serenely. He was not the same Keenan anymore. Tony hated him more than he knew he could hate. Slowly, as though performing a magic trick, he brought the dart out of his pocket and brandished it to the camera. Then, he placed it down beside the pool of blood. Tony ground his teeth in bitter resentment for the man.

  
He hopped into Peter’s arms after that, bridal style. It made Tony feel sick again. They slipped out of frame, and the screen darkened.

  
He repressed a gag, and instead sprung into action for Peter.

  
“Track his home address, FRIDAY, and any other addresses or properties under his name or bank details. Pepper, bandage this up and me and Rhodey are gonna fly out and scout around. Then get Happy to drive you to pick up May. Tell her whatever you have to, I don’t care, just—under no circumstances do you let her out of here. I don’t care if it’s World War 3.” _This is just as bad._ “FRIDAY, full lockdown.” _Last time that was said, Peter was convulsing on the ground. I don’t know which I prefer._ “Nobody but us 3, Happy, May and Peter to have access. Plummet the elevators as soon as they’re back up here.”

  
“Yes Boss.”

  
They set off within 5 minutes of watching the footage, an air of determination lacing their every word. 

  
Tony was pleased to get going, to _do_ something, but at the same time, he already had a feeling they weren’t going to find Keenan till he wanted to be found. 

  
The cards were officially all in Keenan’s hand – they had been this entire time and Tony hadn’t even known it. Had he failed Peter? He could Ask The Audience, and they could vote a resounding 100% _B) No._ \- and he’d still opt for _D) Without a Fucking Doubt_ with rich confidence.

* * *

  
They searched for hours. 

  
In the first half hour, Tony let Rhodey’s forced optimism buoy him – FRIDAY came up with several addresses tied to Keenan’s name, and they split up to raid them all. 

  
He had no qualms with bursting in through windows. He’d been far beyond politely knocking _before_ that knife had broken Peter’s skin. Now he was livid and scared. 

  
He wouldn’t have an anxiety attack till Peter was found and safe; he knew himself well enough to guarantee that. 

  
But when he did, it didn’t even bear thinking about. 

  
The first place he hit up seemed to just be Keenan’s apartment. The man wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave anything incriminating in his home - that’d be too easy. God damn, couldn’t just _one_ bad guy make it easy for him and have a lair set up in their bedroom? 

  
Villain code seemed to dictate that making Tony Stark’s life easy was an offence punishable by death. It was unsurprising and boring. 0/10. 

  
He scouted round all the same, kicking over a table here, blasting a mirror to pieces there. 

  
He’d have burnt the place to the ground if it weren’t for neighbours, and the fact that he _still hadn’t found Peter yet._ May had been collected and he knew she’d be waiting anxiously by the phone for him to bring her good news. 

  
As he flew to Location 2 (after having smashed up the man’s front door in encouragement of thieves, so don’t worry), he actually debated whether that was true.

  
 _Was_ May waiting for good news? 

  
Or just any news at all? 

  
May Parker was a strong woman. The strongest. And she knew the drill by now.

  
She was waiting for any news at all. 

  
“Call May Parker, FRI.”

  
“Connecting.”

  
He inhaled from the second he’d given the command, knowing she’d answer on the first ring. “Nothing at Keenan’s apartment. I’m on my way to the next place now.”

  
“Okay.” She said nothing else.

  
Tony felt awkward. “I’m not gonna stop till we find him, and you know I won’t.”

  
“I know, I know.” She laughed humourlessly. “Guess we just need to view this as… another… wildly unpredictable… bump in the road before this is fixed, huh?”

  
“Sure.” He replied, banking to the right to dodge a tower. “Just another bump in the road.”

  
“God, I hope he’s okay. I’m gonna resort to prayer, I swear, because I really don’t know how much more of this I can take. That kid is the only one who knows how to make me care about someone more than I thought was physically possible. And I’m including my husband in that.”

  
 _I know the feeling._ “He can hold his own well enough.” He spouted Rhodey’s words back to her, hoping they brought her more comfort than they did him. 

  
“I know,” she snorted a little, “even though I still find it hard to see the Spider-Man in him when for all his life I’ve only ever seen my boy.” She’s babbling now, out of nerves and a need for a distraction.

  
“Don’t worry, May, his opponents aren’t worth a damn when his fists are flying. If you’d seen him on that security camera footage from his room—” FRIDAY flashed up on screen to let him know he was nearing the storage facility. He put the brakes on, and the grey blur of the city below him whirred to a standstill.

  
“I have seen it.” _Of course she has._ “Tony, he can fight, but he can only fight till they have a _knife_.” Her voice broke on the final word. He heard Pepper in the background, comforting her and coaxing her to hang up. “I’d better go. Stay safe and please hurry, Tony.” 

  
He said his goodbyes to her whilst the phrase, _“Easier said than done.”_ echoed around in his head.

* * *

  
Hour 4 since Peter and Keenan’s escape went by. 

  
Rhodey called in after his fourth fruitless search. He joined Pepper in scouring social media for any sightings of Spider-Man, hacking cameras to try and track a route, looking for number plates that could’ve carried them out of the city.

  
Tony was flying out of state to the final place. The hour 5 mark ticked over whilst he was on his way.

  
He should be hungry, but he wasn’t. He knew he was thirsty – his head was pounding and his tongue was heavy, but he couldn’t feel it. The only needing, gnawing feeling in his stomach was for Peter.

  
He’d mentally calculated whether Peter’s stab wound would’ve healed up enough to stop him from bleeding out. Hopefully, it had. 

  
Hopefully, he was right.

  
He tried not to concentrate on the fact that _way_ more wounds could’ve been inflicted in this time, but it was difficult to ignore a Peter in pain.

  
“It’s this place on the left, Boss.” FRIDAY lit up the barn-like structure on his screen. “There are people inside.”

  
Anticipation and excitement rose up in him. “Why is it always the last place you look? Never mind. Alright. Is there a back entrance? I’d rather try and avoid the all guns blazing approach until I know they won’t hurt Peter in surprise or anything.”

  
He answered his own question by going round the building and finding the door. It was rusty, the hinges bleeding orange. 

  
He landed a ways away to approach quietly. “Are they behind this door, FRIDAY?” He whispered. The screen flashed up a heat scan in the negative – there were only two people in there. 

  
“Well, here goes nothing.” He grunted, forcing open the door and charging his repulsors, arms raised.

  
Two teenagers stared back at him, backing away. Tony looked at them, then about the vast room. Familiar tech and equipment, metal and scrap, wires, half-way done projects and completed weapons greeted him. He shot the ceiling above them with one hand then returned it to parallel the older boy. 

  
“You two better start talking now or you’re never gonna get to kiss your mommies goodbye.” He eyed a blueprint page with a Stark Industries logo in the corner “And I’m pretty sure you’re aware that I do not bluff.”

  
The younger one spat onto the floor by his feet. 

  
“Alright then.” He shot him in the foot. 

  
The boy screamed, dropping to the floor. 

  
Regret suddenly flashed through his mind for a moment, because _what if they’ve been hypnotised too,_ when the older one hissed, “Get the fuck _up,_ Frankie!” and his regret melted away into cool satisfaction. 

  
“Frankie! Oh, wow, I _see_! Hi there! And I’m assuming you’re Kieron?” Tony pointed both repulsors at him and waved at the scowling teen, who didn’t reply. He fired a warning shot a couple inches to the left of his foot in response. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

  
The younger one puffed out exaggerated breaths whilst his foot bled out. Tony rolled his eyes.

  
“Not really talkers, are you? That’s _fine_ , believe me. Just tell me where my kid is and I won’t need to personally harvest your feet for good luck charms. Or is that rabbits?” He put hand on his hip and tapped his chin with the other. “Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s stupid kids.” He monotoned.

  
The older one scoffed. “Your kid’s long dead, man.” 

  
Everything fell to grey. That delayed anxiety attack bubbled up in his ribcage, constricting his throat as his sinuses heated up with tears.

  
“What?”

  
“My dad took him out to the woods to shoot him like a dog. It’s what he deserved. He’s scum, and so are you.” The kid laughed out loud, and Tony bit his tongue, drawing and tasting blood so that he wouldn’t have to draw it from the kid until he was done with him. 

  
“Tell me where he is or I swear to god I will kill you.” He ground out.

  
Kieron hooted. “So kill me.” He raised his hands in welcome.

  
He hadn’t realised he’d desuited and punched the kid in the face till he’d fallen back into the wall, unconscious. 

  
He honestly felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Peter was dead. 

  
Blood boiling, he stood over Frankie, who glared at him through tears. “You’re lucky I won’t kill you.” 

  
He gave him a matching broken nose and the same promise of a good night’s sleep as Kieron before he could even reply.

  
He slipped back into the suit. “FRIDAY, get Rhodey here. Tell him to arrest them. Tell him not to be gentle.”

* * *

  
He flew out over the landscape for hours, rejecting all calls and thinking nothing. Saying nothing. FRIDAY relayed messages that he tuned out, and asked him questions that he didn’t answer. Truth be told, he didn’t even know where he was.

  
Hysterical anguish raged inside of him. 

  
His stomach ached and he gasped breaths every so often, his panic attack more of a slow, languid, bubbling torture than a quick all-in-one deal.

  
He’d never been good at the whole processing loss and grieving healthily thing, but even so, he refused to let the idea even enter his mind. 

  
Peter was Not Dead. 

  
An orange warning of low power flashed up in the corner of his eye. “Use reserves.” He said flatly. The orange went away.

  
He swooped lower over some fells. There had been nobody in sight for at least 2 hours, he thought, and the sun was beginning to go down. A melancholy settled with the darkness, and it felt like all was lost if it went dark and he hadn’t found Peter. The orange flashed up again, and he snapped irritably at FRIDAY to _use reserves_ , angry that the happy colour had interrupted his sad reflection.

  
It didn’t go away. Exhausted and exasperated, he adjusted his eyes to look at it. 

  
_Incoming call: Peter Parker (Suit)_

  
“ _Accept!_ Peter?!” His heart hammered hard in his ears.

  
“Tony…”

  
“Peter, kid, are you alright?! Where are you?!” 

  
“Tony, my head hurts. I’m… I’m next to a—next to a big lake. Please, come, _please_.” 

  
Any relief he’d felt disappeared as soon as it had come. Peter’s voice was breathy and strained, and _urgent_ like it was whenever he was in a lot of pain and scared. Tony was scared, too. Too scared.

  
“Okay, okay, kid. I’m coming. Hold on, okay? I’m coming.” He said as quietly as possible, as comforting as possible. _A lake._ He’d seen a lake to his 9 o’clock about an hour ago. He muted his microphone. “Get me to that lake we went past, FRI. Give me all you’ve got.” 

  
The screen lit up straight away. “Arrival time about 20 minutes, Boss.”

  
He unmuted. “Pete, I’ll be there in 20 minutes - tops, okay?”

  
“Okay.” He breathed.

  
Tony’s stomach churned. He didn’t sound good. “Talk to me, Pete. Where are you hurt?” He didn’t push the kid to explain anything that’d happened. He could tell by just the quality of his voice that he wasn’t up for that. 

  
His raging anxiety made his vision dip in and out of monochrome. 

  
Answers could come later. Peter came first, always.

  
He hadn’t even _begun_ to consider that Kieron had called Keenan “dad”.

  
“My head, Tony, my head hurts so bad.” Peter choked a sob and Tony’s heart twisted. “S-sorry.”

  
“It’s alright, Peter, it’s okay. It’s okay. You cry all you want, okay? You do what you got to do. Peter, have you been shot?” _Please say no please say no please—_

  
__

  
“No—no." _Good. Good._ "I got the—got the… gun... got it off him.”

  
“Are you in danger? Is he there?”

  
Peter groaned, voice growing fainter as though he was moving away from the suit somehow. “Peter? Buddy, talk to me, okay?”

  
“S’rry, Tony, sorry. Can… can you ask again?”

  
“Is Keenan there?” He repeated patiently. He tried his best to prepare himself for the fact that he was probably going to be looking at some serious head trauma when he arrived – not even counting for any other injuries besides that. 

  
“No. He’s gone.”

  
“Good. That’s good, kid. You did really good.” _I don’t know what you did, but you did good. You always do good._

  
“ _God,_ my _head_. Oh my god.” 

  
“I know, kiddo, I know. Hang in there. I’m well on my way.”

  
“Tony I think I’m gonna pass out.” Peter’s voice had gone all weird - and a little shrill - his speech rushed. It sounded like how he did when he was in hospital after having a nightmare, waking up and reaching for May. “I don’t feel good.”

  
“Hey, hey, hey, Peter – close your eyes and lay on the ground, and breathe with me, okay? You need to stay awake so I can find you.”

  
“I am.”

  
“I know you’re awake but I need to you to _stay_ awake, buddy. Are you laid down?”

  
“S’what I mean. Already am laid down. Eyes closed. Breathing. Trying not t’pass out.”

  
“Glad you can still sass me at a time like this.” Tony joked worriedly. “Breathe with me, alright?”

  
He spent the rest of the unbearable journey counting his breaths aloud – it helped him as much as it helped Peter – and continually asking Peter if he was still awake. If the kid didn’t sound so absolutely done in, he’d definitely have gotten bored of the question by now. 

  
He didn’t need to look for long once he’d reached the lake. His mind buzzed with impatience when the water had come into view, and every second closer he got to it, the more physical the need to see Peter became. 

  
He found the kid on the ground by the water’s edge, at an opening of trees. To his word, he was lying down - on his side, head buried in his suit – it’d been turned inside out and reconnected wires lay on top, his hands bunched up in the fabric and pressed tightly to his head. He was only wearing a thin shirt and boxer shorts, and he was shivering. 

  
Thankfully, however, there was no obvious injuries to the kid. His leg had fully healed. There was no blood anywhere, including his head.

  
 _He must have hit it really damn hard, then._ The words _brain injury_ went through his mind and settled at the pit of his stomach.

  
 _Time is really of the essence here._

  
He set himself down as quietly as possible, stumbling out of the suit and running to the kid, whispering his name. He ripped off his jacket and draped it over him.

  
Peter turned his face out of the suit a little, pressing it into Tony’s knees. “Tony.” He moaned breathlessly. “My head.”

  
He rubbed his back, other hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through gritty hair. “I know, Pete.” 

  
He weighed his options. He palmed Peter’s cheek and found no fever, only cool skin. The mask was nowhere in sight, but he didn’t need it to activate the heater. It just depended on whether the kid was up for moving.

  
He dipped his hand into the water, shook off the excess and pressed it against Peter’s forehead. It had the desired effect, as the kid sighed softly. “That better?” He hummed a soft yes in reply. “Okay.” He wet it again and cupped his cheek.

  
He looked up at the darkening sky, steeling himself for what he had to do. 

  
Before he said it, however, Peter was heaving himself up. Tony’s now-redundant hands fumbled to stop him, but decided against it. It hurt seeing how painful it was for the kid, and he knew for sure that he’d only want to do this once. 

  
Once he was upright, he fell straight into Tony’s waiting arms with an awful moan. Sitting on his legs, he sat between Tony’s knees and let his face find the crook of the man’s neck.

  
“Good job, Pete. Good job.” Tony whispered into his curls, adjusting the jacket around him and hugging him tightly. 

  
“Ouch.” He croaked. “Ow.”

  
“I bet.” 

  
They didn’t move, Peter grappling at Tony’s shirt as waves of pain washed over him. Tony murmured to him, smoothing circles between his shoulder blades beneath the jacket to warm him up. He watched the waves of the clean water lap at the bank a couple metres away absently.

  
“Sorry if I throw up.” 

  
“You’re alright.”

  
“Mmm.”

  
“I know you’re gonna hate it, but I need to get you into the suit and get you to the Tower, kiddo. I’m really worried about that helluva head injury you’ve got yourself.”

  
“Didn’t hit my head. Broke out of the trance.”

  
Tony’s hand froze. “Broke out of the trance?”

  
Peter shifted in sudden great pain, hands tensing and pinching Tony. 

  
Tony cradled his head, wincing in sympathy.

  
A minute or so passed. He waited calmly.

  
“Keenan had me in a trance and I got out of it. Hurts your head a lot.” Peter finally voiced into his shirt. 

  
_A lot_ was definitely an understatement.

  
“Damn, Pete. That’s… pretty incredible. Well done, kiddo.”

  
“I got the gun off him.”

  
The hairs on Tony’s arms stood up on end, chilled. Peter’s begin to as well, sensing Tony’s panic. “Where is it now?”

  
“Threw it into th’water.”

  
“Good job, Peter.”

  
“S’what you would’ve done.”

  
“Nope,” he hugged him tighter, “I definitely wouldn’t’ve been able to do that.” He said assuredly. “And _trust_ me on that.”

  
Peter started to settle down even more after that, and Tony had to reluctantly pry him from his arms and very slowly get him into the suit. Peter took it like a champ, but it was an agonising process and by the end of it, there were tears streaming down his cheeks, and he was looking decidedly green around the gills. Tony felt downright terrible for the kid.

  
He activated the heater and Peter found his way back into his arms before he had a chance to stand. He chuckled under his breath despite himself. “Okay, champ. You’re doing so well.”

  
“Hurts like a _bitch_.” 

  
“I bet. I really am sorry about that. I wish I could make it stop.” Peter curled a, _”S’not your fault.”_ around Tony’s words. “I’m gonna get you home, and then you can sleep in your nice bed. That sound good?”

  
“Sounds good.”

  
“Sounds good. Okay. I’m gonna suit up, then I’ll come get you, okay?”

  
“Okay. Let’s do this.”

  
_This kid is strong as hell and he can do this._

* * *

  
It turned out that although Peter was strong as hell, _that_ was the only reason they were still doing this. 

  
In other words, if Peter didn’t have the resolve of an ox, he’d have begged Tony to put him down 5 seconds after he’d been picked up.

  
Tony could see in the way his breathing was ragged, could see in how he’d thrown up over the side of his arms into the dark abyss below them twice already, could see how he tried to hold tears back but they just kept coming.

  
But when Tony asked him 2 or 3 times if he wanted him to stop, he grunted out a desperate “No.” and Tony kept going with a heavy, guilty heart. This was torture for him, too.

  
“No—please just keep going, please, Tony, I can’t—,” he panted, eyes squeezed shut and body turned into the metal chest plate, “I won’t start again.”

  
“Okay, Pete, take it easy. I’ve got you. Breathe.” Tony watched his hair bristle in the wind and wished he could smooth it back. He had his jacket wrapped round his head, but his pale cheeks were still tinged pink from the brisk wind. 

  
10 minutes out from the Tower, Peter passed out cold. 

  
Tony thought it might have been that the bright lights of the city were too much for the kid - if he hadn’t known better. He knew that Peter couldn’t see the lights, had simply lost his battle with the pain.

  
It was especially alarming to May, who fawned over the kid the second Tony deposited him on a medbay cot. 

  
He fell into the chair and scrubbed at his face. He felt like he’d held his breath the entire way back. The suit had only 0.3% power by the time he’d finally dropped into the Tower.

  
“I am _never_ doing that again.” He said to no one in particular. He couldn’t be the prolonger of Peter’s pain like that for another second of his remaining days. They felt significantly reduced; that journey had felt like forever.

  
“His vitals are all fine.” Rhodey cast him a confused look. 

  
Tony just nodded, too exhausted to even explain right now. 

  
Rhodey appraised him up and down carefully. Then he jerked his head towards the door.

  
Tony relinquished the hold he hadn’t quite realised he’d had on Peter’s hand and headed out of the room behind him. He called a, “FRIDAY, Hushabye Protocol.” over his shoulder in the doorway and the lights dimmed low, casting the room into balmy darkness. May smiled.

  
Rhodey steadied him with both hands. “You alright?”

  
“Fine.” He was too exhausted to even think.

  
“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Tony.”

  
“You fucking bet.” He exhaled, utterly drained. “They called him Dad, you know.”

  
Rhodey cocked an eyebrow. “They did _not_.” He led Tony to a couch. Tony sat back, eyes shut and arms crossed. Rhodey perched on the edge, turned towards him. “Why am I not even that surprised at this point?”

  
“Where are they?”

  
“Police are still processing them right now. You’re not in the best position for… shooting him in the foot, Tones.”

  
He cracked an eye open. “You blaming me?”

  
Rhodey raised his hands in surrender and shook his head innocently, puffing out his cheeks. “Not me. Could’ve blown their brains out for all I cared. If having them wasn’t a strategic advantage…”

  
“Advantage?”

  
“They’ve said some shit, Tony. Some real shit. They’re going to need a mental assessment, going on about erasing the scum of the earth and all kindsa nonsense.”

  
“They called me and Pete scum, too.”

  
“Oh, yeah, they _really_ don’t like you guys.”

  
“Don’t think I’d be a fan of anyone who blasted my foot off either. I deserve a thank-you off them, you know. They’re building my bombs again. All my stuff. I mean, I thought as much anyway, after the flash drive and after they tried to blow me and the kid to smithereens with my own technology, but it’s whatever. No big.”

  
He scoffed. A few weeks ago, expositing all this would’ve been _way_ alarming and crazy to him. 

  
Now, he was too tired and worried for Peter. He just wanted it all over. 

  
Peter deserved better than all this, and Tony wished more than anything that he could just solve it all from the fetal position in his bed.

  
Tony got the exact same paralysis around Peter as he did Pepper whenever one of them was in trouble and he couldn’t solve it with a flick of the wrist and a flash of cash. A Pepper in pain was a Tony in pain, and the exact same went for Peter.

  
“And Keenan’s still at large.”

  
Tony scowled. He raised his fist up harshly, ready to hit the arm of the couch but let it down gently. He picked at the fabric. “He tried to kill Peter. Nearly did, too, if Pete hadn’t broken out of whatever… oh, _I don’t know_ what it was. Hypnosis? Pete called it a trance. Only reason he’s out right now. He broke out of it, but it gave him the migraine from hell.”

  
Rhodey glanced up at the now darkened windows of Peter’s room. “Poor kid.”

  
Tony shook his head. “It was fucking awful, Rhodey.”

  
“How’d he get ahold of you without the mask?”

  
“Kid rewired the suit and used it like a phone.”

  
“With the headache?”

  
“Kid’s stronger than we’ll ever be, Rhodes.” He shrugged and smiled dopily, allowing himself to feel some pride. “S’all there is to it.”

  
“Oh, I’m not arguing with you there.”

  
They stared at the door together in silence for a little while.

  
“So. What now?”

  
“We’ve seized everything from the barn, kids are in custody – well. One is. Other one’s in the hospital.” Tony smirked. “I got you off the hook for the foot, Tony, but if you wanna go and talk to these kids, you’re gonna have to hold your damn tongue and be sweet as pie to these kids if you want anything out them. We need to find Keenan before he does anything catastrophic. I have a feeling Peter fighting him off isn’t going to make him see sense, for some reason.”

  
Tony didn’t reply. He knew Rhodey didn’t need one to know he’d stubbornly agree.

  
“Get some sleep, Tones. We can start this off again in the morning.” 

  
Tony stood slowly. When he began to head back into Peter’s room, Rhodey caught his arm in disagreement. He opened his mouth to tell him off for not going to his bed, then balked. “I’ll get another cot.”

  
“Two. For May.” Rhodey smiled at him. Tony patted him on the back in gratefulness and slipped back into the room. Peter looked more comfortable already. He huffed in relief.

  
May stood and hugged him. When she pulled away, she braced him by the shoulders. “You got him back.” She said simply.

  
“He’s hurting.” He replied, kind of sadly. He couldn’t quite keep it out of his tone.

  
May shook her head. “He’s sleeping. Put your hand on his cheek.” Tony did so. Peter immediately fell into the touch, his mouth curving up at the contact. “He’s fine.”

  
“No thanks to me.”

  
“ _Because_ of you.”

  
Tony smiled an empty smile. He didn’t believe it, though it was nice to hear it all the same.

  
“Sit. You need some peace and quiet.” He lowered onto the edge of the bed, hand still in place. Peter hummed in his sleep and Tony took comfort in his stable warmth.

  
 _Peace and quiet is a mirage._

  
_I wonder how long it’ll stay in my sights._


End file.
